Love by Proxy
by slowread
Summary: Rewrite from "New York" episode. Finn convinces the new Quinn to help him get Rachel. Lines get blurred in the process. Now, all three of them were going to get hurt. Some Finchel. Eventual Faberry! Brittana also.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1 – New York**

Title: Love by Proxy

Rating: Up to NC-17 towards the end

Disclaimer: Characters are not mine. Some dialogue taken directly from Glee and are property of Fox. Song 'Beg You to Fall' is property of Kate Voegele.

Spoilers: Up to and including New York

Summary: New York rewrite… With a new haircut comes a new attitude. Finn has trouble writing the song "Pretending" and enlists the new Quinn's help. It works like a charm but opens a whole other can of worms when later he also needs her help to maintain the relationship with Rachel.

First upload ever. Be kind? XD

_Do you even feel anything anymore?_

Yes. The truth was that Quinn felt very deeply... about everything. Before the baby incident last year, she felt loved and protected by her family and boyfriend. Nine months later, she felt crushing pain when it was ripped away as her father kicked her out. The blonde felt jealousy, annoyance and a host of other emotions towards the petite little brunette who had everything she ever wanted: people that loved her. But she supposed the most important fact of all was that she didn't feel anything for Finn.

Sure, the giant footballer was gentle and probably very considerate for a 17-year-old boy. There were fond memories associated with her first crush but nothing romantic anymore. Nevertheless, in her eyes, he had been better than nothing. Now, looking at Tina and Mike, Puck and Zizies and even Santana and Britney she just couldn't help but feel isolated and alone.

Still, they were having lunch in New York, preparing for Nationals and 580 miles from Lima, Ohio. Quinn couldn't help but smile, basking in the excited nervous energy of her fellow glee clubbers.

"Guys, to celebrate our impending win at Nationals I got us tickets to the longest running show ever, Cats!"

Rachel Berry bounced over to the New Directions crew in a rainbow coat, looking awfully proud of her achievements. Brittany whooped, whilst a wide-eyed grin appeared on Kurt's face. Quinn couldn't help but look indulgently before rolling her eyes. It was very Rachel.

"You might want to check the dates on those ticket because Cats closed down 11 years ago."

"He did seem kind of crazy. He charged my credit card by swiping it through his butt crack…"

A sheepish Rachel made her way next to Kurt. The blonde chuckled, shaking her head in amusement and vague disgust as the mental picture.

"Berry, please tell me you disinfected yourself after that…"

The New Directions crew laughed, each taking turns in ruffling the head of the shortest girl. Rachel couldn't help but blush under the sparkling green eyes of the ex-head cheerio. After prom, it seemed as if they had come to a truce of sorts. During the dance, the two girls had spent the majority of the dance ensconced on the floors of the bathroom: marveling at the situation and talking about the idiocy of their boys.

Since then, Quinn had stopped ruthlessly antagonizing the brunette and although strained, the blonde had even cracked her a smile once or twice. Rachel mostly left the taller girl alone, choosing to leave small notes and motivational cartoons reminding Quinn that she was beautiful and more than just a pretty face. Even if it was toned down for Rachel, it was a still little over the top. However if the blonde was being honest she enjoyed the attention. Nobody had gone through so much trouble for her before. Finn had been sweet but a complete bungle in the romance department. In fact, the blonde was surprised that he was even able to pick the perfect corsage during prom. She suspected it had been a fluke… Not that Quinn was comparing the actions Rachel Berry to her ex-boyfriend. _Not ever._

_/_

Pretty soon, everyone had gotten settled into his or her rooms, and the crew was having their first meeting. Mr Schuester had just left them to write their songs, expecting something fantastic when he got back. It was obvious he was hiding something from them. If Sue Sylvester had taught anything to Quinn it was how to spot a liar. Filing that thought for later, Quinn began scratching ideas on her note pad. From the corner of her eye she could see Finn looking adoringly at the annoying upbeat singer and she couldn't help but frown. There was no animosity; it only served to remind her how she didn't have anyone to look at her that way and that hurt. _A lot. _

One ridiculous song about a cup later, Quinn had enough. She couldn't stay cooped in the room for another minute. She would suffocate watching the Finns longing glance's and everybody's pathetic attempts at song writing. In fact she had already pictured multiple methods of murdering Artie and Brittany with the Styrofoam cups that they were so enthusiastically singing about.

"…We don't have to write songs for Nationals, New Yorks going to write them for us."

Ignoring the protests, Quinn left the room, mentally counting her steps. _One. Two. Three. _

"Wait! Quinn, you were right."

The blonde smirked to herself. They were so predictable. She slowed down, waiting for the others to catch up. Finn and Santana lead the way whilst Quinn brought up the rear. Rachel stumbled falling into the blonde's direction in her haste. Raising her hands up, the small singer tried to shield her from being broken again by the inevitable fall. Suddenly she wasn't falling. A firm arm clasped around her waist held her up.

"Jeez, Berry can't take you anywhere."

"I resent that. I'll have you know that I have been trained in various types of dancing since childhood and thus have excellent balance. It is a rarity that I even trip and I move incredibly quickly ad unhindered - "

Looking up, the brunette found the retort die. Entranced, Rachel registered the profile of the ex-cheerleader. Quinn really was pretty and it pained her that the blonde didn't believe that, placing so much self worth into her looks. Unconsciously her hand moved up Quinn's neck and cheek, turning her face so that the blonde was looking her. Green eyes bored into soft hazel ones. Both girls vaguely remembered that they were in the middle of the hotel hallway but neither could bring themselves to care. Without thinking Quinn leant her cheek into Rachel's palm removing the remaining space between their bodies. Rachel was thankful that Quinn was holding her up otherwise she was sure she would have collapsed. _Legs what legs?_

"Q! What the hell is taking so long? Britts wants to get her New York on."

Santana's voice vibrated loudly down the hall. Both girls jerked away blushing profusely without knowing why. They were as confused as each other. Quinn ran her fingers through her hair muttering random phrases, "midget", "curse" and "weird," walking briskly to the elevator where the others were waiting. Rachel on the other hand shrugged happily, chalking the whole experience to the magic chemistry of the busy city. Now all she had to do was get Finn alone… The brunette skipped down the hall pirouetting towards the others. Kurt clapped enthusiastically squealing as they rode the elevator down.

/

Rushing through New York was everything Quinn had expected and more. In the midst of vibrant colors and passionate buskers, Quinn felt potential for the first time in her 17 years. The girls had eventually gone back to their room to have a giant pillow fight. Everyone felt like they were five years old again and it was wonderful. Rachel, on the other hand forced herself to try and write a song. Despite her self imposed work ethic, mid way she could help but feel a grin tug on her lips. It was good to see everyone so happy and so much like a family. Mercedes and Tina had stopped to chat whilst Quinn and Santana were wrestling over the beds. The two abnormally guarded girls were, dare she say gleeful, as they tumbled around the room.

The vibration of her phone eventually drew Rachel's attention away. Finn had sent her a message. Rachel slinked off from the group reluctantly. She didn't want to advertise the fact around Quinn especially when she looked so happy. The blonde had behaved so well over the past few days considering Finn had not been subtle with his affections towards her. Even Rachel knew that. Part of the brunette couldn't help but feel a bit indignant for the other girl. The other was so consumed by her old feelings for the footballer. Finn was the first person to be kind to her, not to mention his voice blended excellently with hers; a perfect male lead.

But Quinn knew…she knew exactly when, where and why the brunette disappeared off to. She could tell by Rachel's small lovesick smile. Prince Finn had finally come to call. _How did Rachel Freaking Berry get everything and Quinn Fabray end up alone? This wasn't how it was supposed to be…_

/

A glowing Rachel danced back to the hotel room after her date with Finn. Truly, she didn't think the big footballer had it in him to be so romantic, the flowers, candlelight dinner and midnight stroll. Normally his idea of a date was a dinner at Breadstix followed by Call of Duty. Memories of the night replayed in her mind. Eeep she had met the Betty Lapone! Her life was validated now she could die happy. For once, Finn listened to everything she said, even contributing at the appropriate points of conversation. Rachel wasn't naïve she knew that on a good day he only paid attention to half of her ramblings. But, no tonight had been perfect. Tonight she was the sought after girl in the romantic comedies. She just wished she could've taken a chance on Finn, but something was holding her back. That's not to say that she didn't want to because nearly every fiber of her being wanted to give in. Perhaps she just wanted to protect herself from heartache… A kiss would have been the perfect end to the "work date."

The songstress executed one final twirl before tiptoeing into the room. Everyone had fallen asleep. Brittany and Santana were wrapped around each other on one of the beds whilst Tina and Mercedes were sprawled on the other. Her gaze lingered on the dancer and Latina. Just looking in their direction she felt like she was approaching something incredibly pure. Santana had one arm wrapped around Brittany's waist with the other tucking the blonde's head to her chest. Scanning the room, Rachel found Lauren was snoring on the cot by the window. _The girl wasn't so tough. _The brunette couldn't help but feel like she was missing something as she was preparing for bed. _Quinn_. Worry rushed through her, as she looked around frantically for the ex-cheerleader. Her eyed finally registered the taller blonde. Quinn was tucked into single sofa, looking every bit angelic and fragile in the fetal position. Rachel couldn't help but stare as she moved to place a blanket around the girl. During sleep Quinn looked peaceful, happy almost, like she didn't have to be strong. _She was just a girl. _Sometimes it was hard for anybody to remember that after all that Quinn had been through. Rachel shook herself out of her trance next to the blonde; she would not watch the other girl sleep no matter how pretty she looked. _I am not a stalker like that Jacob Ben Israel! Horrid, horris boy! _A grimace appeared on the brunette's face at the thought before drifting off.

/

Quinn woke with a start, the next morning. It was not going to be a good day. Rachel Berry was probably going to prancing around oozing rainbows and sunshine after that date. Then, everyone find out. They will know that Fin Hudson chose little Miss Diva over the blonde. Santana would make some kind of inane comment in an attempt to toughen Quinn up. Despite what everyone thought the Latina and the ex head cheerio were actually the best of friends; had been since they were 5 years old. The teasing, fighting and sarcasm was just how they communicated. Brittany had always been the one to balance things in the trio. Quinn could already see Tina and Mercede's pitying glances whilst everyone else congratulated the new couple. Her nails dig into her palms as she clenched her fists. No, Quinn would give Rachel a piece of her mind before anything happened this morning.

The vibrating of a phone on the vanity table interrupted the blonde's planning. Recognizing, the ridiculously star covered phone the blonde rolled her eyes, scanning the room for the brunette. _Curious. Where was the annoying little girl? Surely she wouldn't wake up at the ass crack of dawn on a Sunday! _Quinn's eyes fell on a note that had been hastily tacked onto the mirror. "Gone out with Kurt. Will be back after breakfast. Good morning girls, it going to be a great day. " Ugh! Even Rachel Berry's notes were chipper. For a brief moment Quinn entertained the notion that the smaller singer was a robot sent to annoy and destroy her sanity. Her fist pumped into the air as she visualized finding the off switch. However, the insistent text messaging forced the ex cheerleader back to reality. She blushed, wondering if anybody witnessed her moment of immaturity.

Brrrrrrrrrrrrn! Quinn sighed in annoyance, flicking open the phone. Forget privacy, the brunette shouldn't even be out of the hotel room anyway. They had songs for nationals to write. Wasn't that what the girl had been drilling into their heads all week? Reading the message, Quinn wished she had just left well enough alone. Her blood ran cold as she tried to control the anger inside of her.

"Rachel, I'm sorry for trying to kiss you last night. I just wanted to be perfect for you. You make me a better person. I love you…always have " – Finn

_Breathe in; breathe out, in, out. That's right Quinn let's not do anything stupid and kill everyone. You wouldn't survive in prison. After all, you are only RELATIVELY sane for a girl. _Quinn thought as she slowly calmed down. Clenching and unclenching her fists, the energy drained from her body. By the end, all that was left was emptiness and bitterness. She grabbed her make-up, making her way to the bathroom, the words "I love you" weighing heavily on her mind.

Quinn sighed she hated mirrors. They were brutally honest, recording every single imperfection and reflecting it back to you. She tried so hard to find somebody she recognized. Empty green eyes stared back, the bottomless depths so devoid of life, reason and direction. Her mind flashed back to the bathroom scene at prom. The blonde thought about that moment a lot lately, mostly as a means to fall asleep at night. _"You're a very pretty girl Quinn, prettiest girl I've ever met, but you're a lot more than that." _Was she? Was she really? The brunette seemed to believe so damn hard and Rachel Berry never said anything she didn't mean. It made Quinn want to believe it too but she just couldn't see it. Pale face, striking features and light blonde hair stood out, in the contrast of the white tiled room: regal, statuesque and lonely. There were no traces Lucy in the reflection… Lucy had integrity… No evidence of HBIC head cheerio Quinn Fabray…Quinn Fabray had parents that loved her, boyfriends lining up and popularity. All that was left, it wasn't much. Harsh knocking interrupted her thoughts.

"Quinn quit hogging the bathroom. I needs to pencil my eyebrows on! Doesn't she get it?"

"It's all yours…"

Quinn vacated the room indifferently, with Brittany and the hotheaded Latina on her tail. For the first time, Quinn experienced the disappointed gaze of the taller blonde dancer but she was beyond caring. The ex head cheerleader just felt cold and distant.

"Everyone's already in the other room working."

"Oh yeah? Is Mr Schue in there? Cos I think I'm gonna tell him that Rachel and Kurt keep sneaking off."

Quinn just needed something to ground her and to shock her back to somebody she used to be. Even if she hated that person, HBIC Quinn Fabray was stronger. Old Quinn could keep the fear and insecurities at bay. Old Quinn didn't care about Glee, Finn Hudson or Rachel Berry.

"You can't do that then he'll have to suspend them."

_Ah Brittany, Brittany as if that wasn't the point. _

"And there goes our chances at nationals…Darn!"

Quinn would wreck this if she had to. There was no way; no way she could stay with the status quo. If they won nationals, everyone would hail Rachel and Finn and she would be left out in the cold. No, if she was going down the glee club was coming with her. _Sue would be so proud. _Her internal voice snickered.

"You know what, we get it, you're pissed about Finn dumping your sweet ass. Get over it."

Santana shook her head. The Latina knew she was antagonizing her friend but it needed to be done. Quinn needed to see reason. This was how their friendship worked. Quinn and Santana needed to be mean and tough as nails to control the school and protect their own, like Brittany. The two girls bickered and argued constantly but they always cared. They fought because they care. Honestly, it was probably because they were both too damaged to communicate any other way. Brittany was their conscience, keeping the two girls in check.

"I DON'T want to get over it!"

Tears pooled in Quinn's hazel green eyes. Brittany dropped her head, knowing that their friend was hurting and that they were partly responsible. These past few months the trio had fractured. Between the whole mess with Artie and Santana, the two girls had neglected their best friend and that was wrong. Since childhood they had always looked out for each other, somehow they let high school drama get in the way. Hell, Santana had probably even caused some of Quinn's grief, stealing Sam away and fighting her for the prom queen position.

"The only person you're sabotaging here is yourself."

"I don't care about some STUPID SHOW CHOIR COMPETITION!"

"Well you should, because this is the one chance that we have to actually feel good about ourselves."

By that, Santana drove her point home. It was true. She knew it. Brittany knew it. Hell, she was sure that deep down even Quinn knew it and just couldn't feel it right now. Santana recognized what Quinn was doing. It was a defense mechanism that they had perfected over the years. Destroy instead of confront. Repress instead of opening up.

"Aren't we supposed to be the popular girls?"

Brittany and Santana scoffed. It had been a long time since any of them were those girls; they had come a long way. Quinn looked up feeling most of her energy evaporate. At this point she might as well be honest, it couldn't possibly get any worse and she missed her friends.

"So why can't we have our dreams come true? She has love, Tina has it, and even Zizes hooks up."

Quinn feels her lower lip quiver and leaves the last part of her sentence unsaid. _Even you and Brittany have it, once you stop being so stubborn. _The blonde knew her hotheaded friend loved the tall dancer, but the pressures of Ohio and strict parenting prevented her from accepting that fact. Santana looked down, feeling the full force of Quinn's feelings weigh down on her. She had the decency to feel ashamed in her part in the mono/Sam/Finn debacle. For a moment, she wonders how it got this far and everything just melts away. As Brittany and Santana watched their friend break down before them, they realize for the first time in a while that it is all going to be all right. They had found each other again, sitting on a hotel bed in the midst of nationals and they had Glee club to thank.

"I just want somebody to love me…"

"I think I know how to make you feel better."

"I'm flattered Santana but I'm really not that into that."

Santana froze for a second, realizing what the other girl thought. She was amazed and amused that Quinn's mind had gone there so quickly in the first place. Filing that nugget away to be analyzed later, she pushed one. Brittany strokes Quinn comfortingly. Somewhere in the back of Quinn and Santana's minds they register that it is the same way the tall dancer stroked her cat, Lord Tubbington. Internally they smirked.

"No, no I'm not talking about that. Talking about a haircut."

"Yes totally."

Brittany chimed in. It was the perfect idea. It was a means to start anew and acquire a different perspective. Quinn gave into the idea, letting her friends hug her and make the plans.

/

Santana and Brittany dragged a struggling blonde towards the door Jimmy's Salon. As they had gotten closer and closer to the destination Quinn had started to feel nervous and apprehensive about the idea. The ex-head cheerio hated change, probably because she never felt the need. Everything used to be perfect. Quinn resisted, pressing herself to the window trying to make out the inside of the little shop. _Why was it so empty? _Rolling her eyes, Santana had had enough and nodded to her counterpart. With that Brittany scooped Quinn up carrying bridal style through the door. Ignoring their ex-captain's shrieking Santana followed.

"Man up Q! It's just a haircut."

"Are you kidding why did you guys have to pick the most deserted place in New York. Look at how dark it is in here. You're going get us mugged or even killed!"

Quinn whined petulantly, even going as far as to stomp her feet after being placed on the ground. Both Brittany and Santana rolled their eyes in unison before breaking into smirks. Neither girl was going to say it but the blonde could be so much like a very cute 3-year-old when she didn't get her way. Quinn Fabray's tantrums could put Rachel Berry to shame. However at that moment a tall gangly man stumbled out of the back. The figure work tinted scuba goggles and was dressed in khakis and an island shirt, brandishing a rather sharp pair of shearing scissors. All three girls jumped. For a brief moment, Santana entertained the notion that Quinn might have been right. The place _was _a little shabby.

"Hello girls, what can I do you for?"

An English accent emerged and the goggled head glanced between the girls quizzically. Quinn glared at Santana nervously as the Latina shrugged. Before either of the girls could stop Brittany, she had already made her way up to the man. Santana swore under her breath trying to bring the dancer back to her side.

"Mister, our friend wants a haircut. Can you do that? And could you tell us if you are a crazy murderer?"

Brittany asked innocently. Taken aback the man laughed, a full-bodied sound permeated the room. He moved towards Quinn holding a hand out. The blonde tensed in response. Then as if a light bulb had switched on the man realized what was wrong. He moved the goggled off to sit in the top of his head, grinning stupidly.

"Of course I can do that for your beautiful young friend. I'm sorry for the reception there if I scared you. I was playing imagine with by nephew out back. I don't normally get clients without appointments. The name's Jimmy."

At this all three girls relaxed. Quinn made her way to the chair and for the second time in front of a mirror. However this time Brittany and Santana were smiling encouragingly in the corner. It didn't feel as bad this time. Looking up, her eyes met with Jimmy's through the mirror. The older man seemed to recognize the lost sad look because he nodded understandingly moving to get ready.

"I don't know what you are dealing with but I can tell that it is serious. Your eyes alone, tells everyone that you have probably gone through more than most young people. I've seen all sorts of people come to me and sit on this chair and for all sorts of reasons. Some come in to impress somebody. Others come in, to keep up with the newest trend. But that's all so superficial. You know, the right haircut experience can create something beautiful and new as we shed away the old. Like what's going to happen today. Now, as I cut each strand, think of one thing that has angered or saddened you, take a deep breath and let it go. Things only hurt because we hold on when we should just let go."

For some reason Quinn felt compelled to listen the strange man. He exuded kindness, wisdom but most importantly empathy. The blonde swallowed and nodded slowly. Jimmy placed a blind fold over Quinn's eyes. Santana and Brittany shared a smile, glad that they chose this salon. Linking their pinky fingers, the two girls settled into each together watching the transformation. It was time to bring back their best friend, their protector, their captain.

Drunken loss of virginity…_SNIP!_

Losing the cheerios position…_SNIP!_

Being slushied…_SNIP!_

Stretch marks…_SNIP!_

Strict/abusive/absentee father…_SNIP!_

Not getting to be Prom Queen…_SNIP!_

Fear of being a Lima loser forever…_SNIP!_

Lucy Caboosey…_SNIP!_

Noah Puckerman…_SNIP!_

Sam Evans…_SNIP!_

Finn Hudson…_SNIP!_

Rachel Freaking Berrry…_SNIP!_

Not being good or pretty enough to be loved…_**SNIP!**_

Jimmy choked up. His heart really broke at the sight of this girl. People weren't supposed to get broken this early in life. However it was going to change, he knew it. From the moment he met Quinn and her friends he could see the strength below the surface, just waiting to be let out again. Santana and Brittany were open-mouthed in awe at the transformation and the atmosphere in the room. Tears rolled down the cheeks of both girls. Something game changing had just occurred. It was as if all the room's inhabitants had experienced the catharsis together, sharing in each angry growl and strangled sob that escaped the blonde. They were all exhausted, like they had run 10 miles.

Jimmy lifted the blindfold, stepping back. Quinn's mouth formed an "o." She looked different, like really really different and it wasn't just the hair. The lines in her forehead had smoothed out and the permanent grimace had dissipated. And her eyes were clear, devoid of any anger and any tears. In those hazel greens there potential again and it was breathtakingly uplifting. Quinn looked and felt older, wiser and stronger. It was all the change she was hoping for. Brittany and Santana looked on with glassy eyes, feeling so relieved that they resolved the situation before it was too late. There was no doubt that without Quinn, they would fall apart. The three cheerios worked best when they were together.

Quinn launched herself into their arms, feeling wetness of each other's tears, laughing and hugging all the same. Jimmy looked on proudly.

/

The trio was giggling as they walked back arm linked, into the hotel room. A couple of gasps could be heard and the New Directions registered the sight of the girls. They had all been curious when first Rachel and Kurt wasn't there cracking out songs for nationals. They were even more shocked when the ex-cheerios neglected to even show up. Mercedes was the first to respond, smiling and hugging the Quinn.

"Girl, that haircut is so hot right now!"

"Damn straight baby mama."

Puck sent Quinn a thumb up expecting a scowl at the nickname. To his surprise, the blonde only smiled back, a genuine smile! Not one of those 'move and I will kill you smiles.' Puck could sense the changes rolling off the girl and he was happy for her. He put her through a lot last year and until today he didn't think that she would ever forgive him for it. Tears welled up, but he refused to cry. However, he did have to keep from punching Finn for his next statement.

"Are you kidding? You guys disappeared for so song to get a haircut? It should have been done another time. We have songs to finish for Nationals."

Santana bristled stepping up to the gargantuan footballer. Even Finn had the intelligence to back away.

"Oh get off it Finnessa. Its not like we took the whole day off. Q, Britts and I can go anywhere we want. Get the stick out of your ass!"

"Plus didn't Rachel and Kurt totally go out as well?" Brittany piped up.

Quinn placed a hand on the Latina's shoulder, shaking her head slightly. Santana huffed before relaxing her stance, walking over to Brittany and finding a place to sit. Tina looked around nervously before breaking the tensions in the room.

"Quinn, you look great."

"Seconded!"

Kurt raised his hand enthusiastically, no doubt planning all a new wardrobe to match the new look. Murmurs of agreement erupted. Quinn scanned the room. Her gaze finally landed on the short brunette singer who had been silent the whole time, open mouthed and staring intently at the blonde. Quinn smirked.

"Well Berry?"

Unconsciously, the blonde adopted a HBIC pose, ready for any brutal honesty that the other girl would undoubtedly lavish her with.

"You...you look beautiful Quinn." _But you more than that, so much more..._

Rachel felt she needed the other girl to know that, hoping that her voice carried her sincerity. Like Puck, the singer could feel and not just see the changes. Natural Quinn was...beyond words really. It was as if someone took the best elements of spring and added a dash of freedom and grace. The blonde almost staggered back at the simplicity and weight of the response, blushing and stumbling rather ungracefully to her position on the floor. She was more than a little affected by the gaze and unspoken words of the shorter girl. Santana raised her eyebrow at the interaction, whilst Brittany smiled brightly.

"C'mon lets get started on the song writing."

/

"Ugh Mr Schue its been 6 hours and we've only finished the group number! We're never going to get the solo written before tomorrow."

Santana groaned rocking her head against the wall. Her arms were wrapped around a peacefully sleeping blonde dancer. Nobody had the heart to wake her up, not that they would've have stood a chance against her feisty protective pillow. A chain of yawns permeated the room.

"Yeah, c'mon Mr Schue we desperately need sleep."

Even Rachel piped up.

"Mr Schuester I think it would be extremely beneficial for the team if we all took a step back and tried to reassess the situation. Perhaps with some rest our creativity and energy will replenish and we could write a winning song for nationals. Studies have also proven that – "

"Alright, alright I get it guys, we are all tired. But we can't just give up and we need the song done tonight so we can practice it tomorrow. So why don't we jus have a look at what everyone has come up with and try a mash-up?"

The tired Spanish teacher cajoled trying to rub the sleep from his face. Most of the glee club members had blank expressions and blank notepads. However earlier that day he noticed Finn and Quinn writing ideas down. Well, he hoped they were ideas anyway because they were getting anywhere.

"I've got nothing."

Puck declared, mindlessly strumming a few chords on his guitar. Nearly everybody murmured in agreement. Quinn looked down on her notepad. She had actually been able to write a whole song down, with everything that had happened it seemed as if ideas were just pouring out. However, she still needed to work out the kinks in the composition on a piano. Her fingers ran over the words, it was so personal she didn't think she could share it with the club. It would make her vulnerable. Santana elbowed Quinn. The Latina had been observing the other blonde all day. She knew she had something. Santana tilted her head, eyeing the notepad insistently.

Quinn tensed up, knowing that the other girl wasn't going to let this one go, especially after the bonding session today. The three cheerios had agreed to be honest with each other and place their best efforts into nationals. They all needed to feel some confidence, some courage that only winning and glee club could provide. Quinn sighed raising her hand.

"Mr Schue… "

Quinn and Finn called out in unison. The blonde let the footballer go first. The boy looked like a frightened rabit about to bolt anytime.

"Thanks Quinn. Mr Schue, I got something. Its not finished or anything and its still very, very rough. Technically its just an idea for now but – "

Santana rolled her eyes a Finn's ramblings. The gigantic man-child made Brittany look smart. Santana didn't have anything against Finn personally; she knew he was just dim. However that didn't excuse some of his behaviour. The footballer always wanted what he couldn't have, unknowingly hurting a lot of people in the interim. Betraying Sam for Quinn and then hurting Quinn for Rachel. It was a vicious cycle. Now, she knew he was trying to woo Rachel, right in front of Quinn.

"But I'm sure I can finish it up tonight. We can win with this song I know it. Please, just trust me."

"Well I guess if there are no objections we can leave you to it Finn. Tomorrow we'll get together and go over you're song. Get some sleep guys."

Everybody began moving out to his or her own room and beds. Santana looked like she was about to disagree when Quinn grabbed her shoulder, shaking her head sadly.

"San, it's alright. Let Finn do this I don't mind. Take Brittany back to the room and get some sleep. I'm going to go to the lounge room on the work some things out on the piano for a while."

Quinn cracked a smile, ruffling the Latina's head. Santana looked murderous, about to reciprocate until she realized she still had a big mass of blonde adorableness in her arms. Brittany unconsciously wrapped herself tighter around Santana, her forehead crinkling as she whispered something about Lord Tubbington eating all chocolate. Santana softened automatically, rolling her eyes at Quinn's chuckles.

"Just don't sleep to late ok. You think too much Q. Sometimes it is that simple."

Quinn smiled, placing a kiss on Brittany's head and hugging the Latina before walking away.

/

Finn crossed the words out for the hundredth time. In the past hour he hadn't made any progress at all. The footballer groaned, he knew exactly what he felt but didn't know how to voice it. It isn't a secret that he's not good with words or music in general. Yeah, he was a strong singer and could play the drums but writing and composing? Closing his eyes he rubbed his temples thinking of Rachel and how proud she would be if he could get this right. While he didn't always listen to her rambling he loved being around her, because, come on Rachel was a tad annoying. The guys hadn't been much help, collapsing on their beds the second they walked through the doors. Finn knew he needed help; he needed to get this done. He was a captain, a leader… _I know,_ _Quinn! She's good at music stuff. _

There weren't a lot of people except for Santana and Brittany that knew, but Quinn was a concert level pianist. It had all been a part of the perfect image Russell Fabray had constructed for his daughter but the joke was on him. Quinn loved to play. However, in high school opportunities to play diminished as cheerios took over most of her time. Finn never understood why Quinn didn't tell the glee club when it could've helped. In some areas the blonde was probably more knowledgeable than Mr Schue, himself.

The footballer shuffled outside the girls' room, praying that Rachel wasn't the one to answer. Instead the door was swung open by a sleepy irate Latina. He tried swallowed his fear.

"What do want Finnocence? I was freaking sleeping!"

"Sorry, is Quinn here? I need to ask her something."

Santana narrowed her eyes protectively.

"I'm not going to do anything. I just need to talk to her."

Santana glared at the tall jock. Finn briefly wondered if the girl was trying to make his brain explode. Eventually the Latina rolled her eyes.

"Don't do anything dumb to Q or I will end you. She's at the lounge, probably playing that grand piano. God knows, she been eyeing that baby since we got here."

Promptly the door slammed in his face. Bewildered Finn made his way down. The closer he got he could here the familiar sounds of a piano slow, solemn and deliberate. The footballer leaned in the doorway of the function room, absorbing the sight before him. Quinn's slender fingers were dancing across the keys as her upper body swayed with each motion. The soft glare of the over-head lights cast a halo, reflecting off the blonde hair. The new haircut causing her locks to be in disarray. Finn was speechless. The blonde was beautiful, that was no secret. However, moments where she wasn't guarded were rare and song was different, so raw. The cheerleader's eyes were closed as she played with a practiced ease. Only she and the piano existed. _And she was so good. _Finn had almost forgotten how much. A sad but strong voice brought him back to the presence. Quinn was singing in a way that he had never seen before.

So you set out to find the sky like a rocketship

And from on this ground you looked so fine

You insisted you weren't drifting

That someday you'll be back to take me with you

But now you've better things to do

Finn's mind flashed back to a moment before the babygate incident. He and Quinn had been sitting on the back of his dad's old truck watching the stars. That night Finn told her that he loved her and they started talking about futures. Finn was so adamant that he would get a football scholarship and promised to take Quinn out off the hellhole that was Lima, Ohio. Three months later, he met Rachel and he began to question his relationship with the blonde cheerleader. Finn forced himself to listen and watch. It was the least he could do. Since the birth of Beth he had come to understand that Quinn wasn't solely to blame for the whole ordeal. He hadn't been the best boyfriend.

And I don't wanna stand here and beg you to fall

'Cause one day you'll see I was worth it all

And down on my knees ain't where I need to be

I'm gone, ain't gonna beg you to fall

Tears glided down Quinn's cheeks as her voice thickened. Unaware of her audience, the blonde stubbornly continued playing, needing to get this off her chest. Finn choked, there was just so much hurt in the girl that everyone had built to be so strong. The footballer never felt as bad as he did now for his comment at the funeral. He should've known better, Quinn felt everything. She was just so good at hiding it. So good, that he'd bet she even fooled herself sometimes.

Oh maybe one day you'll arrive

Like you never left

And find that while you were learning to fly

Well you taught me the best

Damn lesson

I will never waste a second on talking you into loving me

My breath is far too precious

Quinn took a deep breath, launching into the chorus. By then the tears had stopped. Now it was just her voice and the piano, reverberating throughout the walls and high ceilings.

And I don't wanna stand here and beg you to fall

'Cause one day you'll see I was worth it all

And down on my knees ain't where I need to be

I'm gone, ain't gonna beg you to fall...

For me if your heart's not in it

But could you make sure you break me gently

'Cause you're everything I've been living for

Well not anymore

Finn knew the song was coming to an end and couldn't help but feel like he had run a marathon. Everything about the song made him think, feel and remember. The boy berated himself mentally for making the blonde feel that way. It was never her fault; time changed people and feelings changes. He just should have talked to her upfront.

Quinn, on the other land was feeling more energetic than ever before. Every note, every word expelled took some tension away from her frame. She was starting to feel free again, like she could finally start anew. The piano did help it was an old friend. During her childhood, before everything got so mixed up it had always been her refuge. A ghost of a smile appeared as she finished the song.

And I don't wanna stand here and beg you to fall

'Cause one day you'll see that I'm worth it

And I don't wanna stand here and beg you to fall

'Cause one day you'll see I was worth it all

And down on my knees ain't where I need to be

I'm gone, ain't gonna beg you to fall

Don't wanna beg you to fall

Quinn whispered the last line. Her fingers linger on the last note as the room once again felt silent. It had taken her an hour but she had managed to figure out a composition that would suit the lyrics that she had jotted down earlier that day. It had been quite therapeutic actually. A cough interrupted her thoughts as she looked up. Spotting the tall footballer in the doorway, Quinn's eyes narrowed as she sighed.

"How long have you been standing there?"

Finn looked sheepish taking a few steps closer, sitting next to the blonde. Nervously he tried to look at anywhere but the Quinn. If he did he wouldn't be able to say it and he really needed to.

"You are…you know…worth it. Always have been. I'm just ashamed that I couldn't be the one to see it."

Quinn blushed at the sincerity behind the words and for a while she remembers why she used to love the big footballer. Finn really wasn't a bad guy, a little fickle but what guy wasn't at this age? Quinn didn't know what to do. The old version of her would have lashed out at him yelling his loss. But after everything today she didn't feel the need anymore. Jimmy was right all she had to do was let go of the anger and pain. Finn took a glance at the blonde before continuing.

"It was never about you, you know. You didn't do anything wrong, I just – "

" – developed feelings for our resident gold star?"

Quinn finished the statement with a joking tone and a smile that indicated that she all right with the situation. And she was. The truth was Finn and her had been over a long time ago. The relationship had only started again in a fit of mild insanity over the prom queen throne and a twisted noble desire to make it easier for Rachel to leave Lima. The two girls weren't close. In fact, it had taken them this long to plateau into to mild acceptance and silent camaraderie. Despite all this, there wasn't a doubt in Quinn's mind that the brunette was destined for Broadway, but everyone knew Rachel got hopelessly invested and obsessive in relationships. Quinn had to respect a talent like Rachel's and didn't want anything or anybody to hold her back. Rachel Berry wasn't a Lima loser. Shaking herself she was met with Finn's warm gaze.

"Yeah, I really love her."

"Well, what can I do for you? I suppose you didn't wander all the way down here by accident."

Finn looked down embarrassedly and the blonde couldn't help but smirk. She knew the boy way to well, raising her eyebrow in question.

"Spit it out Hudson."

"I kinda need help writing the song for Nationals. I need to get her to see that I love her. She shouldn't end up with that Jesse guy. I mean he's a jerk."

Quinn couldn't help but roll her eyes at the boy, before interrupting him.

"Says the person that has been rejecting her and making her cry these last few weeks."

Finn felt her words cut through him like a knife because they were all true. He had been given every chance and ignored them all. Guilt stabbed at his stomach. Quinn's hand touched his arm comfortingly as her soft voice rang out.

"Hey, I didn't mean to hurt you but you needed to see that you aren't perfect and innocent either."

Finn nodded somberly, he would never say it but he was thankful for the wake up call. The depressing atmosphere was getting to Quinn, so she pushed the conversation.

"So let me get this straight. You want your ex-girlfriend's help to write a romantic song to woo another ex and potential girlfriend during the glee finals in the big apple? Yeah, this is going to end well. I can see the headlines now, Berry kills Fabray and Hudson over Nationals Song "

Quinn pretended to shake her head exasperatedly. It seemed to do the trick. Finn chuckled smiling goofily at preposterousness of the whole situation.

"I guess it sounds pretty stupid huh? Is this going to be a problem?"

"Yes it sounds stupid, ridiculously so… but no, this isn't going to be a problem, I personally love train wrecks."

Quinn stared pointedly at Finn, watching his shoulders slump. The footballer should've known convincing the blonde wasn't going to be easy. Quinn was nothing if not logical and her self-preservation instinct was almost infallible. Finn struggled to think of any reason that could move the cheerleader into helping. Sure, the blonde and brunette had stopped antagonizing each other but they were still along way of friends. Quinn continued to shake her head softly as she ran her fingers over the keys. Soft sounds chimed through the room.

"Please, Quinn. I don't know how to do this. Plus we need a song for nationals."

"…Whatever Berry better not find out…How far have you actually gotten?"

"Uh… you see I might have exaggerated today at the meeting. It's just that I needed to convince Mr Schue to let me do this…"

Finn got redder by the second; this was the part that he had been afraid of telling the blonde. Quinn simply rolled her eyes holding out a hand. _Ofcourse you did. _

"Well, don't just stand there gawking Finn. Give me what you've got so far."

Reluctantly a crumpled piece of paper was pushed into the blonde's hands. Finn watched as the blonde went over the words, raising her eyebrows. Her expression morphed into disbelief in less than five second. He shuffled his feet.

"Are you kidding me Hudson? All you have here a few words about pretending and hiding and a cartoon picture of Halo! Beethoven himself couldn't work with this in the time frame."

Quinn's incredulous face exuded sarcasm. The blonde was frustrated to say the least.

"I know alright! But I also know what I feel I just can't put it in words. I know you can help, you're always so good with words."

"Flattery will get you nowhere Finn, especially with this…"

Quinn placed the scrap of the paper on the piano, staring hard into the distance. Finn sat next to her, pleading with his eyes. The blonde sighed, ruffling her newly cropped hair.

"What do you want to say?"

"I feel like Rachel and I keep dancing, every single day. The feelings come rushing back every time I see her. I know she feels it too, I just know it. I see her everywhere Quinn… You know after the funeral I was going to tell her how I felt. She was at the auditorium kissing Jesse. She was happy, I think and I didn't know what to do. Where do I fit in her plans?"

Finn dropped his head into his hands. Quinn managed a sympathetic gaze as she thought about his words. Turning around she grabbed a pen and scribbled down a few lines. Testing a few melodies she muttered to herself. Her eyes jumped back and fourth between the ivory keys, Finn and the words she had written. A pencil was tucked behind her ear as she bit her lip adorably in thought. She smacked Finn behind the head rousing him from his self-wallowing.

"Focus Finn. Lets try this… you guys both sing this first part. Now its supposed to slow and sad because you want to build up to the chorus.

Face to face and heart to heart

We're so close yet so far apart

I close my eyes I look away

That's just because I'm not okay

Let Rachel sing the next line, her voice will carry the tone better. Finn your voice should return on the last line of this verse because you want to communicate to her that she's not the only one that doubts sometimes. All Rachel wants to feel is not alone; she probably just wants to know that she isn't the only confused person in the relationship. You can't go at her in this song screaming that you should be together; this is going to be a slow convincing argument.

But I hold on I stay strong

Wondering if we still belong

So that the first verse."

Finn listened intently. He was so glad that Quinn was willing to help him out. The blonde was very eloquent. For someone that never expressed her emotions and she seemed to know exactly how to place his in a song.

"Yeah. That was great I mean you were right we aren't okay and Rachel's always trying to be strong even after Santana and the slushies. But I know that she cries sometimes in the toilets after glee."

Quinn tried not to blanch. Finn wasn't the only one that had noticed. A week ago Quinn had to come back to retrieve her forgotten notepad and she had heard the brunette whimpering in the girls toilets. It had been a particularly bad moment where everyone had just ignored Rachel's arguments for an original song and Finn wasn't backing her up. To make it worse, everyone was talking about sex and lewd comments about everyone's indiscretions, including Fin and Santana and Finn and Quinn. The blonde coughed trying to get rid of the thick feeling in her throat.

"The chorus I figure will just consists of stuff like stop pretending and opening up to each other."

"Yeah, I just want Rachel to know we can have a happy ending if we just stop hiding from our feelings. I could be so good to her."

Finn gestured with his hands whilst the blonde nodded biting on the end of her pencil.

"Alright so, basically like this…

Will we ever say the words we're feeling

Reach down underneath and tear down all the walls

Will we ever have a happy ending

Or will we forever only be pretending

We will always be pretending

Will we a-a-a-always a-a-a-always a-a-a-always be pretending

Finn you want to let Rachel take the reins, especially on that last line. The tempo will get faster the further into the chorus you go."

Finn nodded attentively. He couldn't help but stare at the blonde. Her face was a perfect mask of indifference but her tone suggested something different. She seemed to care about how this would play out.

"Awesome."

"Finn this next verse is mostly yours from your point of view. So I'm gonna need you to think hard on what you want to say. You will only get one chance."

Quinn stared hard at the footballer. She could continue writing this but Finn needed to get his own words in here as well. He needed to be the one to convince Rachel. Quinn was only there to sand the edges off. The blonde knew the quarterback could do it, he could be really sweet sometimes, and it was what had attracted her to him in the first place.

"OK. Um I think something like this…

How long do I fantasize

Make believe that it's still alive

Imagine that I am good enough – "

Finn forehead crinkled as he tried to think of the next line.

"And we can choose the ones we love…"

Quinn's soft voice broke out of the silence. His gaze snapped up to meet the blonde's. Sadness swirled in the cheerleader's hazel green eyes. Finn swallowed forcefully, he really couldn't believe he had done so much damage. The cheerleader didn't deserve it. Raising his hand, he pulled the blonde into a hug. Quinn allowed it for a moment before shrugging him off. She cleared her voice.

"Don't. Just don't Finn."

"I'm sorry, Quinn."

Quinn chuckled bitterly.

"I know... I wish it makes it better but it doesn't. After nationals I'm gonna need some time alone. Maybe mom and I will go to our cabin in the mountains, I don't know, but I need a break, Finn."

The footballer nodded in understanding, knowing it was the least he could do. Quinn took a couple of deep calming breaths before scribbling on the sheet again.

"WE can finish the verse with these lines again to communicate the depth of your confusion. That I think repetition is what it takes to get something into Berry's thick skull

But I hold on I stay strong

Wondering if we still belong

Then we'll insert another chorus. Remember this song is all about building it up to the climax. You're trying to convince her, wear her down. So chorus again…

Will we ever say the words we're feeling

Deep down underneath it

Tear down all the walls

Will we ever have a happy ending

Or will we forever only be pretending"

Quinn played the tune she had in mind, making little corrections as the footballer sang softly beside her. The musical part of this was actually surprisingly easy. It seemed Quinn already had something in mind for the tone of the song.

"This is sounding good, the music fit the lyrics, but we'll need a climax point where you can drive the point in."

Finn nodded in understanding racking his brain for ideas. Quinn sang softly under her breath testing out the lyrics that were swirling around her head.

"Will we (oh oh) always (oh oh) be"

Quinn furrowed her brows, taking a moment before breaking into the next line deliberately. The words were sung with force and gaps in between. The blonde liked the effect this added to the song; she knew the brunette would be able to do it justice purely through will alone. Quinn slowed the music to come in sync with each word sung.

"Keeping secrets safe

Every move we make

Seems like no one's letting go

And it's such a shame

Cuz if you feel the same

How am I supposed to know"

Quinn held the last note with her eyes closed. She wasn't sure what had just happened but for a brief moment she realized everything from the brunettes point of view. It was probably just because of the perfect feeling of achievement that comes with mixing words and music correctly but she just couldn't shake the weird feeling off. Finn on the other hand was in awe. The words, the tone and the pace had been good and it felt right. A surge of confident flowed through him as he realized again, not for the first time during the night how talented the blonde was. He was surprised at how well she could emote from Rachel's perspective.

"Quinn that was…I don't know what to say. I'm so grateful that you did this for me."

"Hold it there, Hudson. You will owe me for this. Nothing comes for free."

"OK thanks again."

Quinn ignored the footballer, instead filling in the final notes on the sheet.

" Whatever, look we'll finish the song with the chorus again this is where you do something Finn. You sing with everything that you have. Convince Rachel that you are better than Jesse and win us Nationals.

Finn nodded fiddling with the fraying threads of this shirt.

"Quinn what if this doesn't work?"

"It will work because you aren't convincing her of something she doesn't feel. She loves you Fin, more than you probably know. All you are doing is forcing her eyes open to that. At the start she might try and ignore it but by the end of the performance you guys will end up together. Rachel Berry isn't' that complex."

Finn twisted his face in confusion. He didn't understand how the other girl could be so sure. Quinn spoke as if it was inevitable. In fact, both of the girls did. His mind flashed back to that moment in the hallway before prom. Finn had no idea what corsage to get Quinn. He remembered the tears in the small brunette's eyes as she painfully relayed exactly which flower and ribbon to pick. Rachel had been right, she always was. However, Finn was always curious about how she knew. He remembered the awe and elation in the blonde's expression when he presented it to her. Rachel had known exactly and with the same surety as Quinn displayed now.

"How do you know? Quinn how can you possibly know so much about how she feels and what she wants?"

Quinn smiles sadly, touching the finished score.

"You don't torture somebody for so without knowing everything about them…"

The blonde continues to sit there pondering over the keys of the grand piano. The song was finished, but something else weighed on her mind. She nudged the footballer, eyeing him seriously.

"What are you gonna do when she says yes to you? You know what having a relationship does to her and you know she can't stay, not with a talent like that. Finn, you'll become her whole world…"

"When and not if? Once again, you sound so sure this is going to work… To be honest, I don't know but I promise not to stand in her way. I just can't go through another year of not being with her."

Quinn nodded.

"This IS going to work. I know Rachel Berry. And are you seriously doubting my music skills? Need I get Judy Fabray to show you my ribbons and trophies again?"

That seemed to break the serious tone, as a look of horror crossed Finn's face. The last time that had happened it had taken him 4 hours to get out of the Fabray house. Quinn's mom was really proud of her daughter, like really, really proud. Now that Russell was gone she seemed to take great joy in breaking out all of Quinn's old achievements. Remembering the harrowing experience they both laughed. Quinn eventually sobered.

"When the time comes, if Berry can't do it you have to be strong enough to let go. If you don't I will make it happen."

Finn held Quinn's gaze in understanding. The blonde was a really good person, better than most, just not conventional.

"Deal."

Quinn smiled, tip toeing to pat the tall footballer patronizingly on the head.

"Good, now off to bed you just spend the whole night coming up with this awesome song _**alone**_."

Finn chuckled at the blonde's refusal to be implicated with the song. Something about Rachel haunting her for the rest of her existence. He hugged Quinn before walking away.

/

The next day the New Directions cast met up again. Everybody was rubbing the sleep from his or her eyes. Quinn was still rather dead from the whole ordeal last night, choosing to prop herself at the end of the bed. From the time she finally got to bed to the chirpy awakening by Rachel, the blonde had only gotten a maximum of two hours sleep. Finn passed the finished score to Mr Schue. The curly haired Spanish teacher scanned the page, converting the notes to music in his head.

"Finn… I don't know what to say. I didn't think you had it in you, but this is fantastic. We can totally win Nationals with this."

Excitement quickly swept through sleep-addled brains as a series of hell yeahs filled the room. Each glee member with the exception of Quinn congratulated the footballer. Santana did so as well, albeit skeptically.

"OK guys now we need to practice. Everyone, to the auditorium lounge."

A soft snore interrupted everyone, coming from a conked out blonde ex-cheerleader. In the space of Mr Schue's speech Quinn had curled into the fetal position and fallen asleep. Everybody softened at the sight. The girl looked so innconet and harmless when she slept. No one wanted to wake her. Eventually Mr Schue began to make his way over to the sleeping girl. However a small hand held him back. Looking up he was met with Rachel's shaking head.

"I'll do it Mr Schue. Quinn could bite your head off and I've had a lot of experience in that area."

Rachel knelt down in front of the girl. She couldn't help but tuck a wayward blonde strand behind Quinn's ear. The sleeping blonde unconsciously orientated herself to the touch, letting out a content sigh. The brunette blushed before shaking the other girl lightly. The rest of New Directions watched the exchange with interest.

"Quinn, c'mon you've got to wake up."

"Mmmmmh, five more minutes Berry."

A sleepy reply filtered out of her mouth, the other girl had to lean in to hear it. Rachel shook her head amusedly.

"Sorry, but we have to practice Finn's new song."

With that Quinn eyes fluttered open, adjusting to the light of the room. She noticed everyone watching her and couldn't help but roll her eyes. _A sleeping girl was NOT that interesting. Get a life people!_ Quinn stood up leading the way out.

New directions spent the whole day practicing.

/

It was National and minutes from New Direction's turn on stage. Finn was fiddling nervously at his vest stealing glances at the animated small brunette a few feet away from him. Quinn closed her eyes and took a deep breath releasing the residual jealousness that lingered. She brought the tall footballer to the side.

"Kiss her."

"What?"

"Finn, kiss her at the end our group number. The adrenaline and euphoria will be pumping through her and she'll appreciate the romantic movie-like elements of the gesture. You'll get the girl…"

With that the blonde shoved the giant in to the mark behind the stage and watched from the side. The footballer and the brunette stood nervously awaiting their cues. Finn couldn't help but cast one look at the other girl. Rachel tapped her foot nervously turning her meeting his gaze. The boy seemed to take a breath before making his way over determinedly. She met him half way.

"You wrote an amazing song Finn. I didn't know you had it in you."

A smile blossomed on the small singer's face as she spoke. She couldn't help control her glow and happiness that came knowing he had written the song for her. The lyrics and the music had been so poignant, so romantic and so perfect. It was alarming how well the footballer managed to capture her views and perspective. Most of the time the boy was just dense. Truthfully she never thought Finn listened or even understood her. Now, all she could feel were her old feelings fighting to reach the surface.

"Who cares about the song? What I don't understand is all you've ever wanted was is for us to be together and I'm basically standing here begging for you and suddenly you're not interested."

Quinn quirked an eyebrow in disbelief, swearing under her breathes. She didn't spend all night writing the perfect song just so the dim-witted boy could mess up before it even started. Annoyance seeped through as she felt some sympathy for Rachel. Finn could be very petulant. A rush of worry surged through Rachel as she though about losing Finn a fourth time. Internally she cringed at the idea of the familiar heartbreak. Finn on the other hand couldn't help himself. He knew Quinn had told him not to push the other girl but he needed to know.

"I am interested, more than interested but this is my dream. Being here, in new york and I'm not going let anyone or anything keep me from it…I'm sorry Finn…I love you but there is nothing you can say or do that is going to change my mind about it."

Off in the background Quinn tilted her head in confusion. She hadn't expected this. Truth be told, she thought Rachel would break down under Finn's sad eyes and demanding tone. The small singer took some much-needed breaths. _It hurt either way. _Her heart had shattered with each word of rejection. Shuffling back to her mark, she looked up on last time faced with Finn's hurt. _What have I done? _Slowly the curtain lifted.

Face to face and heart to heart

We're so close yet so far apart

I close my eyes I look away

That's just because I'm not okay

The brunette swallowed forcefully, knowing that the show had to go on. The words of the next line gave her strength, gave her comfort, as she stood taller.

But I hold on I stay strong

Wondering if we still belong

Will we ever say the words we're feeling

Deep down underneath it

Tear down all the walls

Will we ever have a happy ending

Or will we forever only be pretending"

Both partied belted out the song pouring all their sadness and frustration in. Clenching her eyes shut Rachel tried to ignore the power behind the words. It was so eloquent and somehow the simplicity of music seemed to break down a lot of her defenses. Finn had written this for her and it was heartbreakingly beautiful.

Quinn stood watching the performance play out in front of her. Everything was going exactly as planned. Despite Finn's fumble earlier, the song seemed to get through to the brunette. Everyone knew that Rachel was hard headed but one language that she could definitely understand was music. Her guard was slowly coming down. The blonde could see the tell tale signs. Smiling sadly, she felt a sense of achievement bleed through the loneliness. It really was a good song, one of the best she had ever created really. Somehow the inspiration seemed to come naturally. A warm hand squeezed her shoulder.

"It's a good song Q. Finn didn't write that did he?"

Santana asked curiously as she sat next to Quinn, watching the performance. The blonde snickered.

"He isn't good with words you know that."

Santana chuckled before directing her gaze at the blonde again. The Latina's brown eyes searched for something.

"What are you doing Q? You're helping him get with the midget now? You know this isn't going to end well…"

Quinn didn't take her eyes off the singing duo as she shrugged her shoulders. The blonde was staring at the two singers with a scary intensity. Quinn didn't really have a game plan but she tugged Santana's shoulder closer, sharing the view.

"Watch this part Santana, Berry going to give in…"

Santana furrowed her brows as watched their teammates perform. The Latina couldn't help but shake a feeling of apprehension about Quinn's behaviour.

Keeping secrets safe

Every move we make

Rachel blushed and smiled at the words. The music was perfect, a combination of intensity and speed that gave each word more weighting.

Seems like no one's letting go

And it's such a shame

Cuz if you feel the same

How am I supposed to know

The last word of the verse was like the crack in the damn. Rachel couldn't hold it in any longer; she couldn't pretend that her feelings for Finn were nothing, especially not with this song. In her mind it showed that the footballer really did care and understand. Her eyes clamped shut as she held onto that note. Slowly the rest of New Directions' voice filtered in supporting Finn with the last chorus.

Like magnets the duo moved closer together. Quinn couldn't bring herself to join in, knowing what was going to happen afterwards. There was pure silence at the end of the song, no loud applause. And the blonde knew what had happened. Quinn made a mental note to yell at Finn later. Kissing her now wasn't part of the plan.

/

Buzzed from their performance of Light up the World, the group practically all but danced off the stage riding the high from their performance. Quinn Moved behind Finn and delivered a smack to the back of the boy's head.

"I said kiss her after NOT during the performance, you idiot."

Quinn all but hissed as she dragged the boy down by his collar.

"I'm sorry Quinn, I couldn't help it. The moment was perfect."

"Yeah? You know Santana is going to come after you and Berry if your perfect moment cost us regionals, right?"

A look of horror crossed the footballer's face causing the blonde to shake her head and mutter as she walked away.

/

"I think we were good."

A nervous Rachel muttered to a smiling Finn.

"Good? We were amazing."

"…The kiss was interesting."

The brunette blushed as she thought about the audience that witnessed it.

"Yeah I'm calling it the kiss of the century."

"You're wrong Finn. It was unprofessional. It was too personal and intense. The judges won't like it. They'll will consider it common and vulgar and it cost you nationals. Hello Rachel, you look amazing and you sounded great, you just shouldn't have kissed him."

Jesse's word cut like a knife and she visibly deflated at the thought. _Did I just cost us Nationals?_ Her high was quickly replaced by a lead weight in her stomach.

"Why are you here, Jesse?"

Unfortunately Finn chose that moment to be protective and assertive.

"Dude. Back off. You're just jealous, jealous of what we have and what we share with the entire audience because it was shared between two people who love each other. It was the superman of kisses, it came with its own cape, right Rachel?"

Inwardly the brunette cringed at the footballer's wording. It was such a departure from the elegant language expressed in the song. However before she could analyze further her attention directed to the mass of squeals that erupted a few paces away.

"What? What's happening?"

"They just posted the top ten for showcase. Everybody? Gather around it's the moment two years in the making!"

/

The moment everyone heard the words 'we didn't' they felt their hearts crashing down. Everyone had tried so hard and they were so sure that they had a chance of winning. Tears stained the faces of a few. Rachel bowed her head unable to look up and bear the accusing looks that would undoubtedly grace everyone's faces. Frozen, Finn stood dumbfounded as he tried to process the situation, unaware of the guilt-stricken Rachel beside him. A hand reached out from behind her and squeezed comfortingly. Turning around, Rachel's eyes met Quinn's as the blonde nodded reassuringly in acceptance. Somehow it made it worse. The one person that had every right to be angry and hate her was trying to make her feel better. Bile rose up, as she bolted away back to the rooms, wrenching her hand from the blonde's in the process.

After a couple of justifications from Jesse about the kiss, the broken team finally managed to move, numbly following Mr Schue back to the hotel room. However as they walked through the threshold, peace flew out the window. The second the hotheaded Latina saw the brunette perched guiltily on the bed; she lost it, charging at the smaller girl. Puck and a couple of other jumped away in alarm as they heard her terrifyingly anger charged cry. For a split second Quinn glanced at Finn expecting him to rush to Rachel's aid, however the blonde rolled her eyes in annoyance when all she saw was a scared expression.

Galvanised, Quinn swiftly moved, tackling and intercepting Santana just before she got the other girl who was now cowering in the corner. Thankfully, Sue Sylvestor's military-grade training regimen had infused the blonde with strength and agility hidden behind her slight frame. Luckily, it was enough to haul the rage filled Latina back a few paces, putting some distance between her and her target.

"Calm down Santana! Breathe! There is nothing we can do now. It was a mistake. Calm. Down. Now."

Quinn used her most authoritative HBIC tone, trying to drive some reason into the other girl. Upon hearing the blonde, chills and fear ran down everyone's spine. It had been a long time since anyone in the glee club had heard this Quinn. Nearly all but Brittany and Puck flinched. Even Mr Schue took a step back at that raw power that seemed to exude from the girl in that moment. For what it was worth, Santana paused for a moment looking into her ex captain's eyes before remembering the disappointment she had felt when her hopes were shattered. Sadly Quinn understood it had been their one chance to feel good about themselves: Brittany, Santana and herself. So the blonde knew what was going to happen next.

"Sam! Mike! Get over here now!"

The boys jumped following orders, making it to Santana just before she launched herself at the brunette a second time, yelling in Spanish. Together, Quinn, Sam and Mike struggled to keep and enraged Latina at bay.

Rachel blanched at the anger in the Latina's voice, knowing that whatever was being said in Spanish couldn't be good. Knives stabbed at her gut as she thought that this was probably what the whole team was feeling but didn't voice, all except one person. Looking up, Rachel saw the ex-head cheerio using her own body to push the other girl backwards. Finn pushed his head into his hands, trying to escape the whole situation. Tina gasped into her hands leaning away from the furious girl. The truth was she didn't mind losing, sure it was sad but they had performed better than any time in the past. It was fun and they got the chance to spend a weekend in New York. It was OK. Brittany looked on worriedly. The tall dancer wanted to go over, hug Santana and tell her it that it was all going to be all right. However, Quinn's warning looks made her stay away. Brittany knew that if she got hurt in the crossfire Quinn and Santana would never forgive themselves.

After a while Santana started to wind down, feeling exhausted by the screaming. She knew that it wasn't really Rachel's fault but it was easier to have somebody to blame everything on. For a short time she didn't feel useless. Exhausted, Santana collapsed into Quinn's arms, glad that the blonde had taken charge and prevented her from doing anything stupid. Brittany took this as a sign making her way to her friends. The tall dancer looped her arm around Santana's waist and led her to the girl's sleeping room, muttering reassurances along the way. Knowing that the drama was over everyone started moving to his or her own rooms. Puck, Sam, Mike and Lauren clapped Quinn on the back on their way out, commending the girl on her control of the situation.

Rachel was rooted in her spot, her gaze fixed to the floor. She couldn't bring herself to go to the room she shared with the irate cheerleader and the other girls. Realizing she was the only one left, Quinn sighed tiredly as she reluctantly made her way to the shorter girl. _Where the hell was Finn? Shouldn't he be the one stuck comforting Berry? _

"Berry!"

No response. Rachel stayed as still as a statue. A sob wracked her small frame. The blonde felt her stance drop as her expression softened. Losing and Santana's subsequent fit had obviously caused the diva to have a meltdown. Quinn couldn't believe that it had gotten this far. From the moment she prevented the Latina from striking the brunette, someone should have steeped in. Mr Schue should have acted like the adult he was supposed to be. Finn should have protected the girl he claimed to love; after all it hadn't been Rachel's fault completely.

Unconsciously Quinn moved another step closer angling her body so that she was looking up into the brunette's tear filled eyes. The blonde's hand reached out, softly grazing the brunette's cheek as she moved a chocolate colored strand behind the other girl's ear. Quinn's hand rested on the area where the divas shoulders and neck met. Electricity charged through both girls' at the touch causing Rachel to look up in confusion. The blonde let out the breath she didn't know she had been holding. The room was silent, not that it mattered, and they were focused on each other. Quinn's took a deep breath as she pulled the other girl flush against her into an awkward yet firm hug. And oddly, in the safety of her ex-tormentor's arms Rachel broke down. The blonde didn't move until the other girl calmed down.

Eventually Quinn managed to tuck the small brunette into bed, however a hand caught he sleeve when she tried to move away.

"Stay..."

Rachel asked, knowing very well that the blonde could snap any moment reverting back to her cold cruel self. She just couldn't help but crave the security of the blonde's arms once more. Quinn shook her head softly, moving backwards.

"Rest, Berry. I'll make sure Santana doesn't murder you when you sleep…"

/

A week later they had made it back to Lima, Ohio. It was the day of the final glee club meeting of the year. Rachel scoured the library looking for an absentee Finn. For the most part the brunette had recovered from the experience. The footballer, on the other hand, was hiding out in the Civil War section.

"Where have you been?"

"Hiding out. Everyone hates me"

"No they don't." _They hate me._ "It still doesn't explain why you haven't said a word to me since we've been back."

"Because you should be more pissed at me than anybody else. I screwed up. I was humiliated and we worked so hard for everything and I was supposed to be this big shot leader holding everyone together and I blew it. I cost us the championship."

Rachel looked on sympathetically, knowing that she had been plagued with those exact same thought a couple of day ago. She joined Finn on the floor.

"Look. Being an artist is about expressing your feelings in the moment no matter what the consequences. What were you feeling in that moment?"

"That I loved you. That I would've done anything to kiss you one more time."

Rachel swooned internally.

"So you did. You gave it all up for one kiss…was it worth it?"

"Yeah."

A smile appeared on the brunettes face. This was the moment she always wanted. To have somebody care so much that they would give anything for her, and her fathers didn't count.

"What about you? Was it worth it for you?"

Rachel nodded.

"Yeah. Cos I know in my heart that we'll have another shot at nationals. You have to know that I'm leaving Finn. I'm going to New York and I'm never coming back."

Finn thought hard for second and remembered the conversation he had with Quinn about Rachel's future by the piano. He knew the blonde would step in if she had to and smiled knowing that they could still have senior year.

"Graduation's a year away. Got any plans till then?"

Rachel smiled giving into the kiss. This could work. She loved Finn and apparently he loved her enough to throw nationals. She was sure the boy who wrote that amazing song was in there somewhere.

The two made their way to glee giggling and smiling as they went. Quinn greeted them as they came in, noting the goofy grin on Fin's face and Rachel's elated eyes. She clapped Finn on the shoulder leaning in to whisper.

"I told you so. Don't ever doubt me, Finn Hudson."

Winking at the duo, she left them alone. Unknowingly Rachel eyes followed the blonde.

"You guys want to see what twelfth place looks like?"

/

OK that was a kind of long-winded prequel, which sets the scene for the actual storyline. If you liked it review it. :D


	2. Chapter 2 Sports and Other Things

**Chapter 2 – Sports and Other ****Things**

Hey guys sorry for the delay. You've just got to love exam season. Anyways shout outs to frostygirl, em31792, Xiva, obscure999 and Yorick, my first 5 reviews ever. Its awesome to know people are reading this and enjoying it. I promise it will end in Faberry, but I just don't want to rush it. I like toying with the idea that they didn't always love each other. But enough of that, and onto the story!

/

School started tomorrow and Quinn had just gotten back from her summer vacation. She and her mother had spent the month away, getting to know each other again. All phones and computers were left at home, their relationship flourishing when the blonde finally started to open up after Nationals. In return, Judy gave her daughter more luxury and freedom than most kids her age whilst Quinn learnt to respect and trust again. It was a painful process. Accusations were thrown about. Tempers were lost and insecurities were brought out to the surface. But, Judy didn't drink and Quinn didn't shut down… it was a start.

/

With confidence, Quinn used her cheerio master key to get into the school grounds, making a beeline to the bleachers. Despite quitting the squad, she had been smart enough to make copies of the key before Mrs Sylvester took it away. The football field looked the same with its red and yellow goalposts and painted green grass. She didn't know why she expected it to change. But after Nationals everything felt different. All of a sudden things that never seemed to matter caught her attention and ideas that were held so highly became trivial: boys, popularity and beauty. A wind blew in from behind and the thoughtful blonde tugged her windbreaker closer around her body. From such a high vantage point she felt calm, almost as if she was above it all: all the squabbling and the pettiness of high school's class structure. The calm before the storm, she guessed.

"Q! Adding breaking and entering to your long list of failures I see. This, only preceded by that ridiculous teen pregnancy and your affiliation with Schuester's band of losers that is… the Glee club."

Quinn rolled her eyes at the older woman's tirade; she had heard it all before. Sue was dressed in her traditional red and white tracksuit however today there was an added black armband. The blonde had seen the numerous billboards and posters pasted on every wall and every window of shops all around Lima: Screw presidency! Sue for Queen." The concept greatly disturbed the blonde and she prayed that Sue never got her hands on that much power. _Oh the horror._ She sighed resignedly turning to face the other woman. Sue Sylvester was not to be ignored. Well, not unless you wanted to live through the year.

"What are you doing here? Shouldn't you busy trying to crack your way into the senate?"

"Its already happening Q, even as I waste my breath on you. Rest assured, I will get my rightful seat in that White house. Democracy has coddled this nation into havoc, turning its people weak and spineless! The Sue Sylvester party will not stand for it! You know why dictatorships work? Because people follow orders!"

Sue continued her rant although the truth was she had been feeling a little listless lately. Ever since the loss of the Cheerio's national championship she had lost some of her drive. She no longer had a clear image of her goals and in that respect; she felt a sense of solidarity with the younger blonde in front of her. There was some kind of unspoken understanding there. Both had come here hoping to find some sort of direction or signs for things to come.

" – But to answer your question. I'm feeling bored again. Yelling at little children just doesn't hold the same appeal as it used to."

Quinn cringed; remembering the last time the woman had felt 'bored.' It was probably her civic duty to prevent that from being unleashed on unsuspecting citizens.

"So get out there and do something. Return to the Cheerios. Coach another sport or club."

Sue considered the suggestion. It was certainly interesting and held a lot of possibilities. If she turned a horrible team into a winning team it would undoubtedly help her campaigning efforts. Voters would be shown her leadership capabilities and it would give her something else to focus on. She always did have an unhealthy fascination with the other team's blood. Competition made the world go around and failure was always so delicious. Sue hated to admit it, but her ex-head cheerleader did have good ideas. It was what had got her the spot in the first place. That and the fact that the blonde had reminded her of a young Sue Sylvester. Quinn, on the other hand, barely filtered what she was saying, choosing to stare into the distance. It was probably a good thing; she didn't fear the coach anymore. She had always been the one to stand up and challenge her psychotic suggestions. _Shooting Brittany out of a cannon. Really? Way to cross the border to crazytown._

"Q. You just may have something there. And as much as I'd love to stay and chitchat about our _feelings_, I'm going to go drink some rocket fuel to get this vile taste of sincerity out of my mouth before I develop a menstrual cycle..."

Smirking, Quinn watched the woman stand up and dust imaginary lint of her tracksuit. Her eyes drew to the black armband once again.

"Coach, what's with the black armband?"

Sue looked at her arms before her features twisted into its usually mixture of dislike and disgust.

"I'm in mourning. This is the end to my peace and quiet. Tomorrow I will once again be forced to endure the filth, stupidity and anarchy of you and your McKinley High inmates..."

The coach paused for a moment, looking down at her used to be protégée. The blonde had matured, but in her case growing up did not come with any sort of guidance, esepcially in the form of parenting. Sue had met Russell Fabray. She had despised him the second he opened his mouth, sprouting his "kingdom come" speeches. It wasn't that anybody really had manual to life, just nine-year plans that undoubtedly fell through. If Sue's heart had been three times larger, she would have felt compassion for the blonde. As it stood she simply threw back Quinn's advice as she walked away.

"Q, return to the Cheerios or join a sport, I don't care. Glee club is not an appropriate measure of achievement, calling it that would insult standards everywhere."

Left alone with her thoughts again, the young blonde entertained the thought. It _would_ be nice to be in a sport again, to have that order and discipline back into her life. She turned her cellphone around in her hands: still yet to be turned on. Procrastination and avoidance, it was a wonderful thing, but it couldn't last forever. It was time to return to the land of the living, to her life in Lima, Ohio. Where all that existed were small town people with even smaller life goals. Population: 788. Seven hundred and eighty eight real estate agents, garage owners, and grocery baggers, some would get out although most wouldn't. Quinn pursed her lips turning the phone on. Within seconds, the screen came to life. A series of vibrations alerted her to the 12 messages in her inbox. _Wait a second, that couldn't be right. TWELVE messages? _The blonde had told nearly everyone that she would be out of contact for the month. Puzzled, she read the messages.

"Q! Text me when you get back. Britts and I miss your arrogant ass. – Santana, 2 weeks ago."

Quinn chuckled, making a mental note to call her friends when she got home. The three of them has gotten a lot more comfortable and cohesive since New York. It was one of the few good things that had come out of the year before. Whilst Quinn and Santana were never going to sugary sweet, Brittany had managed to sand the sharp corners down. Their barbs now mostly restricted to people outside of their trio and glee club. When the tall dancer was looking, they even tried their hand in being civil. Santana and Quinn would never get it right but Brittany appreciated the effort anyway. However it was the next few messages that caught the her eye. They were all from Finn.

"Rachel invited me over to bond with her Dads. What do I do? Do I bring anything? – Finn, 1 week ago."

Shaking her head, the girl briefly wondered if the footballer had been brought up in a cave. Didn't he know basic social etiquette? Obviously not, after all he had been the one who thought serenading her through song would be a smart way to announce the pregnancy, hitting her parents over the head with the news. Curiously, she wondered what had ended up happening. Until now, she hadn't been able to respond and it was probably safe to say that it was already too late. Her mind filled with all the possible things that Finn could have done wrong, inducing feelings of apprehension. She had been gone only 3 weeks. Nobody could destroy a relationship in that sort of timeframe, right? The next few texts confirmed her suspicions.

"Quinn I think I screwed up. Call me. – Finn, 6 days ago."

_Ofcourse you did…after all the trouble I went through at nationals! Why did she even bother? Oh, this is what an aneurysm must feel like._ At Nationals, Quinn had managed to serve Rachel up on a silver platter. The act had activated some unexpected feelings, reaffirming her self-worth. Maybe she had something to offer the world. Maybe, just maybe Quinn was more than a pretty face. After all, she had managed to sway the hardheaded diva, a feat in itself. In hindsight though, the ex-cheerleader wondered if it was the right decision. Handing Finn the keys to Berry's heart when he obviously wasn't equipped to handle it. Still, she cracked an eye open hoping the next few messages would get better…that the footballer would magically dig deep and become the man the other girl wanted him to be… It really didn't get any better.

"What's Rachel's favorite flower? She likes flowers right? – Finn, 3 days ago."

_Lilies. Pink tinged lilies. Berry had them all over her room in those Myspace videos._ How could Finn not know this? Not for the first time Quinn began to doubt Finn's involvement in her corsage at prom. It had been too perfect. Gardenias. There was no way Finn could've known that she liked gardenias without knowing that Rachel liked lilies. The brunette was not at all subtle. Still, Quinn pushed the confusion away as she read on.

"She's won't talk to me. – Finn, 2 days ago."

"Quinn. Please when you get this call me. I really screwed up and I need your help. – Finn, today."

By the end of it, the blonde's nails had dug into her palms. Annoyance lingered in the forefront of her mind as she forced herself to get a grip. Truth be told, she had no idea why she was reacting so violently to the news. It wasn't like she cared about Rachel's feelings. Sure, they had stopped fighting but that didn't mean Quinn wanted to get involved in the divas life, she didn't want to protect her, she didn't want to sing or write for her. Except, funnily enough, she had already done all of those things. It hadn't been intentional but the actions were there. Was it the same thing? The blonde ran her fingers through her hair, breathing deeply. _What a mess. _Her heart rate picked up.There was really no need to complicate senior year. This time, the blonde had vowed to do everything right. No more insecure Lucy and no more HBIC Quinn Fabray. She was going to do anything, be anyone and get out of this town: away from the underdog mentality that could and would suffocate you any chance it got. Lucy might've been a Lima Loser. HBIC Quinn Fabray might've been a trophy wife. But, Quinn? She was determined to change, to be better.

So with renewed vigor, she chalked her aggravation up to the fact that Finn had wasted her time and effort. She couldn't keep helping the footballer that much was obvious. He was the one dating the brunette and he needed to learn how to keep her happy… Quinn didn't want to responsible for anybody else's happiness. It had been that way all her life. Appease her father, appease her boyfriend and appease her teachers. _Not anymore._ She didn't sign up to be the footballer's handbook to Rachel freaking Berry. Finn was on his own.

Realizing that that was all the "peace" she was going to get today, she tucked her phone back into her pocket and began the long walk home. Combinations of Rachel's ecstatic, sad and vulnerable expressions flashed in and out of her mind and she drifted back to that moment at Nationals, when everyone else had retired to bed.Every now and then, a sliver of doubt crept into her mind and she reminds herself that she did the right thing. _Berry loved Finn right? Sweet, dense, dim-witted Finn. _

/

So absorbed in her thoughts the blonde didn't see the short brunette rounding the corner struggling with a big bucket of frozen corn syrup. The two collided with Rachel landing on top Quinn, their bodies a tangled mess on the sidewalk. Quinn registered the hard metal impacting, before the taste of cherry slushie that splashed her face. Keeping her eyes shut, she tried to rein in the anger, insults and rude expletives that were dying to come out. _Count to ten, Quinn. Remember those anger management exercises? One, two, three, f – ugh that's it! Forget anger management! Why wasn't the idiot getting off?_ It was after a couple of deep breaths that the smell finally hit the blonde: cookies, strawberries and cinnamon. There was a wave of familiarity as she was instantly transported back to the bathroom at prom and the hotel room at nationals. _No, no, no, this wasn't happening. Hadn't she been punished enough? _ Quinn prayed she was mistaken as the sharp throbbing in her head forced her back to the present.

"Quinn? Quinn… Oh my god I am so sorry. It was an accident, I wasn't looking and the bucket was so heavy. It really is impractical to make a bucket this size considering the strength of the average person. I am going to compose a letter of complaint to the board, first thing tomorrow. I'm so s– "

"Berry!"

" – What I'm trying to apologise here Quinn. There's really no need to get so cross."

"Shut up and get off me."

The blonde growled causing the diva to look down. Her hands were flat on the pavement on either side of Quinn's head; practically sitting on the other girl's torso. Rachel's mouth formed an "oh." Blushing and sheepishly smiling at how comfortable she had gotten. The normally hyper vigilant brunette had barely noticed that they were both sprawled on the middle of the sidewalk. When the small singer began squirming and fidgeting, shudders washed over the ex-cheerleader. The warm shocks and electric tingles only adding to her confused and pain-clouded haze. Rachel eventually managed to push herself up, extending a hand to shivering, injured girl. With gritted teeth, Quinn ignored the proffered help and the subsequent hurt that flashed across the diva's face. She dearly regretted it the second her world began to swim and blur. Her body teetered as she drowsily tried to right herself. The last thing the blonde remembered were Rachel's surprisingly strong arms snaking around her waist before her world went dark.

/

Wiping the ice cream maker for the third time in the last half an hour, Rachel Berry allowed herself to glance at the comatose blonde sleeping at the end of the counter. The only life signs were the occasional soft snores that drifted out, such a departure from the sophistication and control the ex-cheerleader usually exuded. And despite the swollen lump that was sure to bruise horribly, Quinn was the picture of innocence. The afternoon rays reflected off her short gold locks whilst the soft breeze blowing a few rebellious strands in every direction. Rachel could only cringe, thinking about the change that would undoubtedly occur when the other girl woke up. Finn was right angry Quinn was scary. _It was an accident. Surely, even Quinn could see that…_

Admittedly the diva had no idea what to expect after she managed to haul the taller girl through the big swinging doors of Carl's Frozen Ice-creamery. Quinn had been different after nationals. It wasn't a complete 180, but there was a definite shift in her personality. The atmosphere around the blonde had become softer and more approachable, even if the sarcastic tendencies were ever present. Perhaps it was the haircut. Perhaps it was a moment of weakness. Rachel didn't know. The last time Quinn had shown such a drastic change was when she was pregnant and that didn't last... McKinley High's cheerleading outfit acted as the perfect mask hiding any residual kindness and vulnerability. Briefly, the brunette pondered if there was some sort of brainwashing that occurred during cheerio practices. It certainly wouldn't be that farfetched with Sue Sylvester at the helm. The woman was absurd and _that_ would be putting it mildly.

Watching the slow rise and fall of Quinn's shoulders, Rachel was transported back to the New York hotel room at nationals. If she tried she could almost feel the safety and reassurance in the arms of other girl again. The diva had thought about it a lot, always wondering why they couldn't be friends. Why was it that the only time one of them could supportive required the other to be in extreme duress? A vibration sounded from her star covered phone. The brunette ignored it knowing it was probably just another apology from Finn. This was another confusing aspect. Finn was so was clueless most of the time yet the song 'Pretending' was so touching and romantic. Quinn was cold and downright mean but was the only one that consoled her during her breakdown. The blonde and the footballer both had this in common; in an instant they both could be different people. Trying to follow gave the diva whiplash.

A piteous moan sounded from the other end of the counter. Rachel was beside the injured girl in a flash. Worriedly she placed her fingers over the bump that had only gotten bigger. The diva winced in sympathy when she saw the small stream of blood that gathered. Quinn had a bruise on her cheek and forehead coupled with a gash over her right eye. Tears welled in the diva's eyes as she realised the damage. Slowly the blonde's head lifted.

"Santana? What are you doing here?"

_Huh? _The singer's eyes widened.A goofy grin washed over Quinn's features. Not quite present, her eyes were glazed and half lidded as turned her cheek into the brunette's palm. _Mmmm warm. _If Rachel weren't so worried about the other girl's wellbeing she would have thought it was adorable. As it was, all that existed was panic, her eyes flickering between the blonde and the first aid kit behind the counter.

"Did Coach Sylvester throw me of the pyramid again?"

_Do what? The woman was quite obviously insane, either that or she had homicidal tendencies. _Blanching at the thought, the brunette pushed Quinn's legs to the side so she could continue cleaning the blood surrounding the cut. Rachel knew that being in Cheerios was dangerous but she clearly had no idea. Many a time she wondered why the three cheerleaders were so sluggish during a dance number, when they had been performing injured. The diva didn't know whether to applaud their showmanship or scold them for their stupidity. However, a light insisted tugging of her bangs jarred her attention back to the pouting girl before her.

"Saaaaaaaaaantaaana, what's with the costume and why does your nametag say Raaaaachel?"

Quinn finished proudly, prodding the plastic badge for emphasis. Her brows furrowed endearingly in concentration as if it were a math problem. Rachel smiled amusedly, shaking her head at the situation. It was just the case that the other girl had to be delirious to use her first name. This side of Quinn was oddly charming albeit, not as intelligent, but charming nonetheless. The toothy grin and sleepy glee looked so natural on the normally strained marble features. The singer almost didn't want to do what she did next.

"Quinn, I'm not Santana. I'm Rachel. I ran into you outside and you got hit by the bucket of slushie I was trying to get back in the store."

For a brief second the blonde did nothing before her head lolled forward slamming against the counter, once again. Jumping back in alarm the bewildered brunette didn't know what to do. Clearly she had damaged Quinn more than she thought. The cheerleader wasn't moving! On one hand, Rachel just wanted to walk away from this whole mess. Assault charges would not look good on her perfect college transcripts. However the part which cared about more than just Broadway, forced her to move closer. Quinn groaned.

"Ungh. Berry, I think you cracked my skull… I get that you don't like me and that's fair enough. But was a concussion really necessary?"

If the swelling were an indicator Quinn knew that her face would look horrendous in the morning. Though right now she was more worried about the ten-ton elephant stomping on her head. The injuries were quite minor compared to those she had gotten under the watchful eyes of Coach Sylvester. Her fingers found the diagonal gash above her right brow. _Great. That'll scar. _

"I don't hate you Quinn."

The blonde raised her eyebrows in disbelief, her eyes drilling holes in the other girl. Rachel swallowed forcefully, taking a bold step forward.

"Contrary to whatever you think Quinn, I understand that this is all just the archaic rules of High School hierarchy. You were simply playing a role that you were dealt. Although I'll admit the slushies were an excellent creative touch. I'm sure that that will be used for years to come."

Snapping up the blonde's gaze met the brunette's. The statement wasn't so much as biting as the truth behind it. Quinn had the decency to feel ashamed, knowing that she was the reason many needed an extra set of clothing every day. It wasn't fun, being slushied. As if the embarrassment and the sting of the frozen liquid weren't bad enough, the coloring never came out of clothes properly. It reminded her of her current predicament. Her blue sundress was completely drenched in cherry red liquid. The wet material clung to her body, a non-existent protection against the cold causing her to shiver and cough bitterly.

"Were…Berry you said were..."

"What? I know it was a hard knock to the head Quinn but try to make sense."

The blonde forced her self to look up and face the other girl. Her fists clenched tightly at her sides.

"You said '_were'_ playing a role. That's past tense if you haven't noticed Berry."

"So?"

Smiling tentatively, the brunette shrugged her shoulders, moving away. Before the blonde could get another word out, a duffel bag flew towards her and quick reflexes caught the bag mid air.

"What – "

"Don't argue. In that bag there's painkillers and a change of clothing . You'll hate it but it is dry and it should still fit you. The employee bathroom is over there, you can use it to clean up."

Rachel pointed behind her, crossing her arms for good measure, determinedly holding Quinn's defiant glare. She refused to be responsible for the other girl catching a cold on top of her current injuries. Thankfully the blonde didn't seem to have the energy to contest. Her shoulders dropping in submission as she stalked past the shorter girl, grumbling the words "unfair", "annoying" and "argyle."

/

Ten minutes later. Quinn walked out, causing the brunette to jump in surprise.

"So what are you even doing here? Shouldn't you be off attending vocal lessons or something?"

Pausing in front of the mirror, the ex-cheerleader grimaced at the reflection. Rachel's white blouse was a bit small on her, exposing parts of her midriff barely covered by the argyle sweater. The skirt wasn't much better. It was short on the undersized singer but it came even higher on Quinn. She looked like a naughty schoolgirl, with horrible fashion sense. A timid voice came from her left.

"You look good Quinn."

Snickering, the blonde shook her head.

"Nobody looks good in argyle Berry."

"You do."

And two sincere words were all it took. Quinn once again found herself staring at the other girl, trying to understand her. It was interesting; the diva seemed to genuinely believe it. Not that it meant much considering this was_ her_ choice of clothing. However the sincerity in her expression caught the cheerleader off guard. It always did. Honesty was never a priority in the Fabray household, always hiding, always deflecting and always pretending. _How fitting._ It had gotten much better without her father but the whole concept was still new, warm and frightening.

"I'm working here, now."

Rachel offered knowing that Quinn needed a distraction. The signs were there. The blonde was beginning to retreat into her own thoughts and that was never a good thing. She always changed after those bouts of reflection, reverting back to HBIC Quinn Fabray lashing out at anything with in a five-mile radius. The singer unconsciously released the breath she was holding when the blonde looked up, amusement glittering behind the hazel-green eyes.

"I think got that, Berry."

"Well, I hardly see why I have to explain myself further. We're not friends and it's not like I owe you anything. Additionally, it was a acc – "

"An accident. I got that as well. Relax, Berry I'm not going to attack you. But you did just concuss me with a giant metal bucket; so I think you should answer my question. Don't you?"

Just like that, the singer forgot her resistance as guilt filtered back into her expression. She fought to keep her hands still. To stop from moving over, to once again ghost over the blonde's injuries. It really hadn't been intentional. All she had said was true. There was no animosity towards Quinn unless the blonde took another solo from her. Over the break, the brunette had come understand the actions of the other girl, feeling nothing but gratitude and a whole new perspective. _'You don't belong here and you can't blame me for helping to send you on your way.' _Quinn was complicated. A perfect dichotomy of sorts: caring and cold, fierce yet controlled, surrounded by people but always lonely. Hidden away, it was heartbreaking that no one else could see. Sometimes Rachel thought she was the only one that could…but then she remembered Santana's guarded concern and the intermittent sadness that Brittany exhibited around their ex captain.

"I'm grounded."

The phrase rolled around distastefully, foreign in the brunette's mouth. She had never done anything to warrant punishment before. Most of the time her father's could be easily charmed into forgiveness and a family night, filled with musicals and popcorn. The Berry's were a close-knit unit; they had to be in a small minded and oppressive town like Lima, Ohio. Rachel rubbed her hand tiredly against her forehead, trying to smooth out the tension.

"Finn and I got into a fight. When he left my anger got the best of me. In a fit of rage I seemed to have broken some very expensive cutlery. Daddy is making me work off the cost as a part of my punishment."

Amused Quinn tilted her head, smiling to her self. It was an entertaining thought, after witnessing of many of the brunette's tantrums first hand.

"But a vegan working in an ice-creamery, isn't that a bit cruel?"

"…I might've broken Daddy's wedding plates."

The words rushed out of Rachel's mouth, cheeks tingeing with embarrassment. The blonde smirked at the other girl's attempt at nonchalance. At this point, she just couldn't help herself, a teasing tone slipping out like warm butter. Some habits were hard to break.

"Jeez, Berry couldn't you have at least chosen something a little less important. I thought you were good at being a diva."

"…It was a fit of rage, Quinn."

Rachel glared pointedly, daring the other girl to laugh, the short singer's ears bright red. After everything, she just didn't know how to be around the other girl. Quinn was up, she was down and she was all around, a _clearly _unstable element. The brunette _never_ felt in control, a small grumble of annoyance escaping her lips. The ex-cheerleader's eyes glittered with mirth, raising her arms in mock surrender. Although, before she could pacify the sulking girl a rather large man stomped to the counter, forcing the blonde out of her spot. Quinn rolled her eyes sliding off from the counter, nobody taught manners anymore. An icepack was slid into her hand. The diva eyed the window seat meaningfully before moving to serve the man. By Rachel's expression, Quinn guessed she wasn't going anywhere.

"I want a 3 scoop waffle cone, with chocolate sauce on the bottom, then pistachio ice cream followed by triple chocolate. The top scoop should be cookies and cream. Top it up with caramel and sprinkles. Don't let them mix."

Both girls recoiled at the order. It was overdoing it to be sure. The flustered brunette quickly raced around trying to collect all the ingredients. It was her first customer of the day and she had to get it right. If future Broadway star, Rachel Berry, were going to serve ice cream then she would endeavor to do so to the best of her abilities, she would be perfect. Quinn snuck a glance under the ice-pad. After hearing the man's bizarre order she was curious to say the least, hoping it would also distract from the hammering in her head. She hadn't noticed when she was talking to the brunette but her head felt like it was splitting. Reaching for the painkillers, she swallowed two, dry. _God bless Berry and her anal retentive tendencies_. Otherwise the blonde knew she would've been unbearable to be around. The only people brave or psychotic enough to be around her when she was injured _and_ without medication were Santana and Brittany. The Latina could handle herself with 'scary Quinn' as Finn had dubbed it, giving as good as she got, constantly reminding her to 'man up'. There wasn't any fussing or coddling, but it suited them. Likewise, the ex-head cheerio could never lash out at the tall blonde dancer, who always tried to kiss away every injury. Quinn chuckled._ Well, it probably always worked for Santana…_

"I'm sorry! If you would just give me the chance I'll try again. I'm sure I can get it to your specificatio –"

A distressed tone shook the blonde out of her reverie. In the brief time that her mind had floated out it seemed as if the a lot had happened. The brunette had bits of ice cream splattered across her face and uniform, her eyes glistening with evidence of her frustration. Mr Three Scoops looked irate, veins pulsing in his neck and forehead. Spittle flew in all directions as he reprimanded the small diva. Wincing at the volume, a flash of irritation surged through Quinn. _Who did he think he was with his ridiculously tall order?_ Her fingers twitched as odd protective instinct jumped out. _This was new._ Not having a lot of time to think the blonde hopped over the counter divider, grabbing a cone on her way, acquainting herself with the layout.

"Quinn! What are you doing this is an employee's only area!"

Turning around from what she was doing Quinn adopted her classic HBIC stance, raising her eyebrow expectantly.

"…Seriously Berry? You're picking now to argue?"

"Its not that I don't appreciate whatever I think you're doing but there are rules and regul – "

"Yeah, yeah, you an read me the riot act later."

The blonde dismissed the other girl, returning to the task at hand. She actually understood the diva's difficulty. Being vegan, working in an ice-creamery coupled with a rude psychotic customer. Yeah, Quinn could see herself throttling the overweight man. In fact she was sure she would've done it the second he opened his obnoxious mouth, so really she had to commend the brunette for her self-control. Silently reciting the order, the ex-cheerleader checked whether she had gotten it all right. It was a coronary attack waiting to happen. Nevertheless, she thrust the frozen treat to the impatient man, distastefully peeling the money off his hands.

"Here, have a nice day."

_Don't come back. _The forced smile dropping the second the man left through the doors. Grimacing in disgust and holding the money as far away as her body would allow, the blonde tried to pass it off to the other girl.

"Ugh. As if he really needed that ice cream. That body, so not his temple…"

Rachel nodded, dumbfounded at the events that had happened, her confusion only blossoming. This was Quinn's second time saving her and she acted as if it was nothing, as if it was expected, just natural etiquette. The blonde was still every bit sarcastic, sardonic and abrasive. It was still Quinn, but it wasn't Quinn Fabray. It was bewildering. Previously, Rachel was certain that the only people that would have done that for her could be counted on one hand alone, ending after Dad and Daddy. Finn would've needed prompting or instruction. The footballer was sweet and he _was_ trying but where was the boy who wrote that song? That sensitive person that understood…she would wait for him, he was worth it.

Quinn hopped on the counter, watching the other girl move about robotically. The cogs in her brain were probably moving a 100 cycles per second. Brrrrrrrrnnnnnn! Another alert from the star covered phone. Surprisingly, the diva made no move to answer it, choosing to shove it violently into the drawer, reminding Quinn of the numerous text messages she had received. Silence. Disappointment and apprehension permeated the air, settling heavily in the minds of both girls. The blonde sighed resignedly. _How did she always end up as the one stuck with Berry and her issues? _

"So…what did he do?"

No response. Rachel fixed her gaze determinedly away from the blonde. It wasn't that she didn't want to tell the other girl, but in many ways she couldn't. No matter what, Finn was still Quinn's ex-boyfriend and the blonde had spent the better part of the last two years torturing her. Part of the brunette wanted to protect Quinn from that, the other part just couldn't trust, at least not wholeheartedly. So really, Rachel truly didn't understand what happened next. In fact even if you asked her, she couldn't tell you.

"Rachel…Tell me."

The soft raspy whisper slipped out. Green hazel eyes held her gaze, warming, coaxing and convincing. Inch by inch the diva felt her self-control slip. She _really wanted_ to trust. The thought had always stuck on her mind, that if given the chance they could have been close friends. Their voices were perfectly compatible though Quinn still needed training to develop better breathing and remove the sharpness. Leaning back into the bench opposite to the blonde, the brunette fiddled with the hem of her uniform.

"You can't make me tell you, Quinn."

The blonde laughed.

"Nobody can _make_ you do anything, Berry."

Quinn left the statement open, daring the other girl to refute it. In agitation, She ruffled a hand through her cropped blonde hair. A small smile crept onto the diva's face, disappearing as quickly as it came. She tried to stop but the words slipped out.

"It's not what he did. It's what he isn't doing that confuses me. I know that Finn's not the brightest and he can say a lot of stupid and sometimes insensitive things. I've accepted that, I have. I just don't understand. Did something change between Nationals and now? Has his feeling's changed? Because I'm trying to find the wonderful person that wrote me that amazing song: the Finn that was willing to give anything just to kiss me. Can you tell me where that person is Quinn?"

The blonde breathed deeply, seeing all of the other girl's pain and confusion. In that moment she wished that she didn't care, like the old Quinn. But, she also knew that would be a deterioration not an improvement. Truthfully, it was like being blindsided, and for a moment her confidence slipped. She hadn't expected the song to have such a huge residual effect. It was just supposed to convince the diva to give the footballer another chance, not whatever this was. _Had she or Finn really made that much of an error? No. She had been so sure…_

"That person, he's right here. Listen to me Berry because I am only saying this once! Finn loves you. That said he is still an 18-year-old boy. You cannot expect him to be brilliant and sensitive all the time, he'll learn and he'll try his best. Every now and then, Finn will even get it right but most of the time? He'll need help. "

"You have a lot of confidence in someone who claimed to love you and left, Quinn."

Rachel looked up, bracing herself for anger. She didn't get it. All she got was a heartbreakingly sad smile and a disturbingly honest reply. The blonde met her gaze fully.

"I think you're forgetting that he left me for you. Always for you, Berry..."

"Then why was he so disturbed when Daddy mentioned the future? In the middle of dinner Finn just started rambling on about no being ready, having no plans and taking things as they come. I don't need commitment or a life plan but entertaining the idea shouldn't have appalled him so much considering his feelings for me…"

And it clicked in the blonde's mind. _Finn's an idiot. _Quinn wasn't, hadn't been wrong. Rachel did love Finn. Apparently she had just put a little too much faith in his to not screw this up. Finn's inability to respond romantically was bringing out all of the old insecurities of the diva. Even when the ex-cheerleader had been dating the footballer she had to admit having the same trouble. It _was _in him to be sweet and heart warming, she had seen and experienced it firsthand. However, the boy also had an inability to express this side of him normally. The song 'Pretending' was based off _his_ feelings. She just helped the process along, making the bits and pieces work.

"I know that by the end of senior year I'm going to New York, Quinn. I'll join Broadway and never look back. All I want is for this year to mean something, to be different… I guess I just wanted my high school existence to be more than slushies, taunts and being just barely tolerated by my friends. Finn was supposed to be a part of that."

With that the brunette was finished. She hadn't planned on revealing this much, least of all to Quinn. But the process had been calming, to get it off her chest and have someone listen so intently. And Quinn did. Listen. The whole time the blonde had stayed, holding the other girl's gaze: thoughtful. Her therapist was paid do so and she could never talk to her fathers about this. They would blame themselves for her bullying and the narrow-mindedness of others.

Quinn could understand the diva's wants. It wasn't actually that dissimilar to her own, the desire for their last year of high school to have an impact. But before she could offer any response a loud car horn sound horn sounded outside. Cringing the blonde cursed, her headache returning. Gingerly hopping off the counter she moved to the door.

"Your mother?"

Quinn turned around embarrassed; she had completely forgotten the other girl was even there with her pulsing headache, completely immersed desire for a soft bed. She looked away sheepishly.

"Yeah. Thanks for the clothes, Berry. You'll get them back at Glee."

"Take your time Quinn. Please send me the dry-cleaning bill for your dress. It was my fault after all."

The blonde found herself smirking at the brunette's contrite expression.

"One debt at a time, Berry… Reimburse your dad first and then we'll talk."

Quinn was about to step through the door when a soft voice called.

"Quinn! Thank you for listening."

"Whatever, Berry."

Shrugging it off Quinn stepped outside. Maybe it was the concussion. Maybe it was 3 liters of slushie mix. Maybe it was the painkillers. Whatever it was, it was enough. Using her phone, the blonde texted the footballer. She would help, just long enough for him to catch on, to learn how to be what the other girl wanted.

Impulsivity or stupidity, Quinn didn't know what was controlling her...

/

Finn was waiting on her doorstep waiting as Quinn's mother parked in the driveway. Throughout the entire ride Judy had fussed over her daughter, trying to convince her to go to the hospital. Despite her annoyed façade the blonde warmed under the attention. It was comforting to know that her mother cared so much, to have that support. Briefly the ex-cheerleader pictures a different life, if her mother had never turned to alcohol, surrendering all control to her father. It was a nice thought but Quinn shook her head of it. Over the break she had managed to come to terms with a lot of things, realizing that although her life hadn't been perfect she was content with how it was now. And _that_ was new.

"Quinn honey what is that boy doing here. Are you too dating, again?"

Quinn snickered she couldn't help it. Ever since the whole baby dinner debacle her mother had taken to referring to Finn as 'that boy.' The blonde would wager that even Puck, the boy who had actually impregnated her would be more favorably received.

"No. Rest assured mom. Finn's here because I need to teach him how to deal with his girlfriend."

The tension drained out of Judy's slight frame. _Thank goodness. Quinn could do better. _

"Oh, alright then. Have fun and I'll be making dinner."

/

The moment awkward footballer stepped into her room Quinn didn't hesitate, slapping the awkward footballer in the upside of his head.

"Ow! Quinn! What was that for?"

"You're kidding right? You managed to destroy a relationship in less than three weeks. A relationship that I had to help you build."

The blonde paced up and down the length of the room. The footballer flinching at the strangling motions she made with her hands. His fear only intensified when the ex-cheerleader stopped, instead choosing to cross her arms and scowl. _Whoa! Ok, scary Quinn. _

"What were you thinking?"

"I wasn't. OK Quinn? I just don't know…"

Guilt appeared on the footballer's face as the giant tried to shrink into himself. Honestly, he really had no idea. Everything had been going on so well after nationals. He and Rachel were closer than ever; the brunette had even played a couple of Halo rounds with him. Then that dinner happened, those questions about their future, when they didn't have one. Rachel would be leaving and he wasn't ready for anything really. A lost look drifted over his brown orbs. For a second he reminded Quinn of a misguided 5-year-old boy and her stance instantly softened.

"Finn…"

"I know Quinn. I know. I screwed up. Rachel's dad just started to ask about our future and I kind of just felt weird. I mean for a second I thought about you and the pregnancy and then Rachel leaving. I just couldn't answer it."

Quinn sighed. The footballer was a good person. He didn't want to lie. He didn't want to give hope where there wasn't any. Most of all he was afraid to make a commitment knowing that Rachel was leaving. She simply affected him this much. Finn may be unable to express his emotions but he did feel it. Looking at the giant the blonde felt sympathy, imagining what it would be like to love someone that much.

"They didn't ask you to propose to her you know. You could have just nodded along and tell them that you cared deeply for their daughter. That's all her parents wanted to know. Technically that's all Berry wants to know as well."

Finn furrowed his brows.

"But Rachel was the one who told me that it would be for only senior year that she's leaving for New York. I want more but you and her will kill me if I bring it up."

The blonde sighed in exasperation. _You have patience Quinn, a whole mountain of it. Do not yell at Hudson..._

"Finn your relationship may only be for the year but whatever you're feeling isn't supposed to be. It probably came across as you didn't care or that you didn't _want _a future with Berry."

Silence as the footballer seemed to process the information. Despair lacing his features as the realization set in. Not for the first time, he questioned how the two girls understood each other so well. They fought, like all the time. It didn't make sense. Yet, Quinn and Rachel demonstrated repeatedly that it didn't matter, knowing exactly how to antagonize and read each other. The footballer knew that Rachel could predict the blonde's erratic behaviour. Just before Quinn's rage outs he remembered how the brunette always seemed to cringe minutely. Subtly stiffening her posture. It happened every time. Similarly, Quinn seemed to be able to discern the severity of the Rachel's emotions, knowing when to 'leave Berry alone' and when to 'make sure Berry didn't do something stupid.' _Girls were weird._

The footballer watched as the blonde cleared the workplace around her piano.

"Well, don't just sit there gawking, Hudson. My headache is killing me this better not take long."

"Are you Ok? Should I take you to the hospital? What happened by the way?"

Sensing the concern in his posture, Quinn shook her head waving away the questions. The footballer really was a good guy. Chivalrous was the word Berry used that one time. The blonde could count on him to be there, maybe not intelligently so but dependable _with _instruction. Now, she just needs to figure out how to condition that behaviour so that it was expressed naturally. The sooner he learnt how to be 'that guy' for the diva, the sooner the blonde would be free. _No more Berry. Yes!_

"Berry with a 3 liter metal bucket happened."

Finn nodded dumbly. It took another second for his jaw to drop. _Wait, what? _

_/_

Anyway so that's the second chapter. Hope you guys liked it and I didn't screw up too bad. Ah Quinn…denial is a wonderful thing. Nah I think at this point in time all Quinn cares about is getting rid of the both of them. It takes a while for the feelings to kick in considering Rachel's fixation on Finn and Quinn's personality.

Love it? Hate it? Wants to hit me with a baseball bat? Let me know and review. XD


	3. Chapter 3 Signed Sealed Delievered

**Chapter 3 – Signed, Sealed, Delivered**

Anonononon said that I have horrible grammar, and in hindsight I'd have to agree. I am trying to fix it but I suffer from that awful disease of seeing what I want to see when I proofread things myself. XD So bear with me. Otherwise, to the story!

/

_Ugh. Was the sun always that bright?_

Quinn winced, seeing Brittany and Santana waiting at end of the parking lot. The sleep-deprived blonde had spent the entire night with the footballer completing, what she liked to call: the 'ultimate forgive my stupidity' song. It had been a slow night: the footballer motivated by his love for the diva whilst painkillers and _a lot_ of caffeine drove Quinn. It wasn't at all healthy. But from the concussion, it was obvious that any connection to the brunette was going to be detrimental. For the first time since Nationals, Quinn questioned her sanity. _What was she doing?_

"Jesus Q! That's one ugly ass shiner. Did you join some underground fight club or something? Cos I totally wants in."

Rolling her eyes, the blonde massaged her temples. Brittany directed the Latina a disapproving look before walking over to examine the injury. In Cheerio's, it was actually Brittany that always checked everyone over, her numerous experience in dancing and physical activities making her a near expert… That and her bedside manner were preferable to a Sue Sylvester. Concern marred the usually carefree features of the dancer.

"It's nothing, just leave it alone Santana."

"Nope. Not until we find out who did this do you, Q."

Recognizing the tone, the ex-head cheerio sighed. Anyone who didn't know the Latina would be afraid however Quinn knew better. She could tell the difference; the slight change in stance and worry swirling behind the scowl. A spiteful Santana was bad enough but a concerned Santana was like a pit ball; loyal, protective but _a little_ manic regarding the gleam in her eye.

"I just ran into Berry."

Brittany's fingers froze stopping the soothing motions. Pure silence…followed by one very loud guffaw.

"Pintsize did this? Oh this is good."

Santana was having trouble controlling her self, laughing uncontrollably. One hand clutched Brittany whilst the other held onto her stomach. Any previous concern completely replace by mirth. _The dwarf gots game!_

"San!"

"What? C'mon Britts this is hilarious. I can't believe man hands managed to get one over, Q."

Quinn groaned. _Why was everyone laughing at her expense? _It wasn't like the diva had managed to take her down in a proper fight or something. The accident had come out of nowhere. The blonde hadn't even been prepared.

"Well, she had a 3L bucket."

The petulant pout settled over her face. Santana's eyes widening comically as Brittany dragged her along.

/

The trio eventually reached the sign-up boards. Students milled about, lining up to complete the bureaucratic first day nonsense. Glee kids, photography kids, footballers and cheerleaders all alike, everyone ready to pen their name and pledge themselves to a clique. Shaking their heads the girls moved to the one unpopulated spot. Nationals hadn't changed anything. Glee club was still on the bottom of the social ladder, social suicide.

"It figures that Berry is the first to sign up."

At the mention of the diva's name Quinn looked up. The Latina had been right, first on the list was the ridiculously cursive script of one Rachel Berry and one gold star. Metaphors. _Great._ A devilish smirk appeared as the blonde moved the singer's gold star next to her own name. She might not be in the cheerios but she needed to get her entertainment somehow. Nothing made her smile more than watching the hilarious reddening of the brunette's face as she stomped around. Sometimes Quinn swore she saw steam. And if it were anyone else she even thought it was endearing.

"Yeah Q, pissing off the person who gave you a black eye is _a great_ idea…this obsession with manhands has gotta stop. I really don't want to deal with a screaming Berry just because you stole her sticker."

"I'm not obsessed."

Santana bore an incredulous expression as she raised her eyebrow.

"Whatever, lets get to class."

About to follow, a green signup sheet caught Quinn's eye. It was for the girl's softball team, the only club less populated than glee. McKinley team had a long and reliable history of losing every game. Half of the town had even begun rumors of a curse. It was perfect… a chance to start anew without the stigma of their old reputations.

"Hey, how do you feel about softball?"

Brittany's eyes lit up with excitement as her glowering counterpart crossed her arms.

"Are you freaking kidding, Q? The sport with a million gay jokes? I'll say it once, no. The school team sucks and we'll never win."

"True, but it's a new start."

"Yeah in loserville."

Santana fired back, scoffing at the notion. Quinn stood calm staring at the other girl. It was a battle of wills and neither of the strong willed girls was breaking down. Brittany gaze flickered between the both of them, unsure about the outcome. She wanted to play. Ever since she was a child her parents said that the need to move, dance and play sport was innate. It was one of the many reasons she had started walking 2 months earlier than most. An aggravated sigh caught her attention.

"Santana, its an opportunity for the three of us. No Mr. Schue and no Ms Sylvester. Glee is great but when was the last time we did something for ourselves: not for another consecutive national championship or anything else? You said you wanted to feel good about yourself, right?"

Quinn forced her point, watching for any cracks in the Latina's stance. This was a good idea because it _had_ to be. There was no way they could go back to cheerios and they didn't want to. But the three girls weren't built to sit on the sidelines… Quinn couldn't let Glee be the only thing that defined them. They weren't like Rachel, Kurt and Mercedes. Before they were singers they were Santana, Brittany and Quinn, the frontrunners and justice system of McKinley High. Brittany tugged on the Latina's sleeves, instantly grabbing the other girl's attention.

"San please? I want to play and it will be so awesome, just because it's us."

The Latina softened under the tall dancer's innocent blue eyes. It really wasn't fair how a person could be that carefree, talented and beautiful at the same time. It was also times like these that Quinn and Santana were blown away by how intelligent Brittany could be. She saw every issue in its simplest form, untainted by the expectations and cynicism. Santana nodded softly. Brittany instantly squealed hugging the other two girls. Quinn watched as the Latina melted into the other girl's embrace, her expression smoothed out into pure calm. It was love, real and complicated. The blonde looked away.

"Well, well if it isn't Quinn Fabray and the lesbo party. Finally come out of the closet Santana?"

A snide voice sounded out from the end of the hall. The trio hadn't noticed but students had parted like the red sea for the owner of that voice, Kelsey Edwards, the new head cheerio and her cronies. Santana and Quinn bristled, both unconsciously stepping in front of a confused Brittany. The ex-captain narrowed her eyes and sighed.

"What do you want Kelsey?"

Kelsey smirked, a cruel gleam in her eye. In her cheerio's uniform she was seven feet tall, someone to be feared at McKinley. The other girls remembered the feeling. Nobody could touch you. Her fiery red hair fluttered as she took a step forward, resting her hands on her hip. A crowd had gathered around the girls.

"What do I want? To restore natural order! This school has gotten out of control: cheerleaders quitting cheerios and jocks choosing to sing and dance. The other day Jacob Ben Israel had the nerve to taunt one of us in his blog! Jewfro! But you know what's worse than glee club. Deserters... We lost the championships because you three quit to join the loser squad. So get ready, because the slushies are going to come by the bucket load until the status quo is reset and you three knuckle under."

The crowd was taken aback; since the three girls had quit, everything had been peaceful almost. Cheerleaders and the footballers started losing their power and people weren't getting bullied as much. A seething Santana laughed hollowly, taking a step closer leaning into the other girl's space.

"Quinn and I built this school, bitch. You wouldn't be anything without us."

To Kelsey's credit she managed to stay perfect still, matching the Latina's glare. However, her fear was betrayed by the slight tremble in her knee. Rolling her eyes Quinn placed a warning on Santana's shoulder. The girl couldn't afford to get into another fight this early in the school year. The whole situation was ridiculous. Kelsey had been a junior cheerleader last year, quiet but calculating. Ms Sylvester had crowned her the next head cheerio after Quinn graduated. Now, promoted too early, she was bloodthirsty. Clearing her voice, the blonde spoke in that chilling HBIC tone.

"Kelsey, time for the talk that somebody should have given you sooner. Do _not_ mess with us. You may have the uniform. You may have the gallons of slushie but you will _never_ win."

The redhead flinched. In her reign Quinn had done a lot of things, bullied a lot of people and thus conditioned a whole lot of fear. It wasn't easily forgotten. _But she wasn't anything anymore._ Swallowing sharply, a dark chuckle slipped out.

"That's where you're wrong. Ever since your teenage pregnancy you lost any sort of credibility you had, head of the celibacy club? Really? I wonder how many guys you slept with this break. Is that how you got the shiner? You three are weak. You're nothing and so is the glee club. It's time to remind everyone of that, starting with… Rupaul!"

The redhead scanned the hallway her eyes falling on the petite diva watching the exchange. Rachel couldn't help but feel a chill run down her spine. On instinct, she looked up meeting the Quinn's guarded glance.

SPLASH! The grape flavored drenched the brunette from all three sides. _Where had they come from?_ A slow laugh began, starting with the cheerleaders and climaxing with the rest of the student body. Rachel couldn't and wouldn't hold it against them. It was just self-preservation after all, but it still hurt. It was never the cold sting as much as the embarrassment that got to her. And in front of Quinn, Finn and the rest of the hallway, Rachel couldn't help it; warm tears mixed with cold corn syrup as she struggled catch her breath.

Santana swore in Spanish whilst Brittany gasped. Quinn walked up to the brunette, her eyes filled rage and veiled concern. Without thinking, she reached out to wipe some of the slushie off the other girl's face. However, Rachel recoiled stepping backwards, not knowing whom she was protecting in this scenario. There was nothing but disappointment, hurt and pain in her expression. The blonde felt her heart constrict. Watching as the brunette bolted. Quinn could feel the spotlight on her as everyone waited for bated breath. _How would Quinn Fabray respond?_

The blonde moved fluidly to Finn who was still rooted to the spot dumbfounded, like everyone else. Yanking sharply the giant was pulled down to eyelevel as Quinn hissed.

"Go check on Berry! Don't just stand there, next time protect her. Do I have to do everything for you? Go. Now."

Not even bothering to check if the footballer had followed her orders, Quinn turned moving towards the smug redhead calculatedly and with deadly calm. Santana and Brittany flanked the ex captain. It was a fearsome thing to behold. The redhead couldn't help but falter.

"Let's get something straight, Kelsey. That was your one and only chance. The glee club is off limits.

Do _anything _like that again and there _will_ be consequences. I will make you regret it."

With that Quinn walked away, the crowd parting for the three former cheerleaders.

/

Rrrrrring. Students filed out of the classrooms to lunch. With the exception of the morning the rest of the day had passed without incident. The trio stuck together whilst the rest of the glee club were vigilant for any surprise attacks. Quinn couldn't help a tinge of worry when she didn't see the brunette in their AP World History class. The tenacious little girl had never let anything bring her down in the past; it was one of her admirable qualities. Although most of the time it also made Quinn want to punch her in the face. _So much for a quiet year.._. Santana was planning various violent scenarios with Puck whilst Quinn suspected that the tall dancer was off comforting Rachel. Finn could probably use all the help he could get.

Clearly, Kelsey would be stopped but the blonde wondered how many more slushies needed to be thrown before that happened. She recognized the cold detachment in the other girl; it was like looking at a distorted version of her self. It was whom she could have turned into, without Beth and glee, and for once she was grateful to have been a social pariah.

"Q! C'mon Brits wants to get to softball training. After roping us into this you better not make us late!"

The blonde joined her friends. Walking down the halls Santana and Quinn kept their stoic expressions, glaring at those who attended a little to long. Both girls didn't feel right reverting to these personas, but it was survival and they had to be unwavering to protect Brittany and the rest of the Glee club. It could get out of hand very quickly.

"Did you have a nice discussion with Puck?"

"It's handled Q. Kelsey steps out of line we'll come down on her."

The two girls shared an understanding. The ex-captain couldn't help but watch as Santana stared longingly at the tall dancer skipping in front with a ghost of a smile.

"You should just tell her."

"And you should just shut up!"

Santana hissed.

"Britts...She already knows and I can't give her anymore than that right now."

Quinn understood. It was hard enough for Santana to come to terms with it on her own. But in a town like Lima, Ohio it was never going to happen, everything was just that much harder. Still, the blonde couldn't help but hope that the Latina would change her mind. It wasn't a secret that the girls were more than friends. Whatever they had together, caused their eyes to light up and magnetism to take place. Neither girls noticed Brittany stop.

"Oh, Quinn, San I forgot to tell you. Rachel's ok. It took so long to get the slushie out. But I'm sure that Finn and Rachel are having some happy times, now."

"Why would we care about Berry?"

The two alpha girls exclaimed simultaneously. Their postures stiffening as they both crossed their arms in front of their chest causing the dancer tilted her head innocently.

"Because we're a family and you guys care."

Brittany said cheerfully before moving to the football fields, leaving two stunned girls in her wake. Neither had enjoyed watching the significantly smaller girl get humiliated, affecting them more than expected. Santana and Quinn had changed over the last two years, now feeling something akin to relief knowing that the diva was all right. Nobody in glee club had been slushied for a while, making today's public attack even worse. Quinn trusted that the footballer would manage the right words this time, disturbed at what 'happy time' would entail. Knowing Finn it would be a combination of awkward apologies and sweet attempts at comfort. Shrugging it off, the shook her head amusedly as she watched Britney skip down the hall.

"You know she's getting smarter."

"I know…"

Santana sighed, thinking the exact same thing last year.

"One day she'll be smart enough to leave…" _Me. _

They watched as the tall dancer stopped abruptly as they made it one the field.

"San, are we joining the cheerios again? I thought we were playing softball."

"We are. Why?"

With that Brittany pointed at the inhabitants on the field. The Latina choked and Quinn's eyes widened, her head shaking in disbelief…_ You've got to be kidding! _Standing in the middle was one Sue Sylvester holding a megaphone yelling for suicides. The tall dancer was confused whilst Santana began muttering in Spanish. Not trusting her own eyes, the ex-captain took another long glance at the field, before promptly turning back.

"Q! Where do you think you're going? Get your stretch marks over here!

Cringing at the coach's voice, she continued to walk away. There wasn't a chance she was going to place any of their lives in that woman's hands again. However, this time Santana's arms reached out to stop her.

"Not a chance! Thanks to you Britts wants to play softball."

The Latina stared pointedly before nodding towards the tall blonde who was already picking out mitts with delight. Quinn's shoulders dropped, looking towards the field reluctantly.

"You know this is going to be bad right?"

"Yeah, it's going to suck."

Santana agreed.

/

Half an hour of suicides, two hundred pushups and fifty crunches later, the trio was walking gingerly towards glee. Quinn and Santana's muscles were screaming as lactic acid accumulated. Brittany was the only one that looked remotely energetic, although even she had struggled. Santana groaned.

"I thought that woman hated all non contact sports."

"She does... God, how did she even find us?"

Quinn stopped to rub her temples. In an effort to make them work harder, Coach Sylvester had utilized the three girls as target practice. Punishing anyone else who tried to help. Word to the wise, softballs weren't so soft when they were hurled at your head. Suddenly, Brittany began sifting through Santana's hair pulling and pinching the skin behind her ear.

"Ow! Britts what do you think you're doing?"

"Looking for the tag."

Quinn and Santana both looked confusedly at the taller blonde who had return to her task.

"What tag?"

"Well, my dad put this tag in Lord Tubbington so that we could always know where he was."

Brittany explained simply. Both the other girl's sputtered, shuddering at the concept of coach Sylvester having that much control. Santana reached up to hold the dancer's hands still, capturing her attention.

"Britts, Coach Sylvester did not put GPS chips in us."

"You sure, San?"

"Yeah. Don't worry about. Let's just go to glee."

All of the other members were already sitting on seats when they entered. Rachel was dressed in Finn's football jersey, with a frown. Quinn paused raising an eyebrow at the brunette.

"I didn't have a spare set of clothes. We haven't been slushied since the championship game."

The diva explained self-consciously. Once again Quinn felt a stab of remorse. However, before she could do anything she was shoved away from the door by an impatient Latina.

"Berry! I heard you got a good shot on Q, here. Nice job!"

The diva reddened under Santana's wink. It was only then that that everyone realized the damage to the ex-cheerleader's face. Questions emerged from every direction as the singer tried to hide herself behind the long sleeves of the oversized jersey. Santana began a farfetched story about a fight club as Quinn watched on amusedly. She managed to hear bits and pieces before an affronted Rachel jumped up in defense.

"I'd like to maintain that was an accident. Contrary to Santana's stories, I was simply walking around with a very heavy bucket of slushie and didn't see Quinn around the corner."

"Hang on, what were _you_ doing with a bucket of slushie?

Kurt asked perplexed. The brunette stammered. She really didn't want to tell everyone the embarrassing story of how she broke her Daddy's wedding plates or hear the many jokes about vegans and ice cream. Impulsively, the brunette looked to Quinn for help, whom shrugged indifferently. Annoyed at the lack of response, the diva turned towards the group.

"That's irrelevant. You just need to understand that I would never intentionally hurt Quinn or anybody else in such a manner."

"And I think _everyone_ gets that. Santana, leave Berry alone before she gets an aneurysm."

Quinn was shaking her head as she walked to her seat. The only one left was, on the other side of the brunette. At this point, Mr Schue broke the silence and clapped loudly.

"Alright guys! Welcome back to senior year. Finn has prepared a little something to start us off."

Rachel looked surprised as she sat up curiously. The giant footballer gave Quinn a weak smile as he shuffled his way to the front, to which the blonde simply rolled her eyes. _Don't screw it up, Hudson._ It took nearly the whole night but by the end of it they were both proud of it. The blonde changed the pace and style of the song to complement the footballer's jazzy baritone. With slightly more direct language it should sit more naturally with Finn, indiscernible to his normal persona. The aim was to make the diva believe again, to place her faith in the boy, without the disturbingly high expectations.

Oohhh oh yeah

Like a fool I went and stayed too long

Now I'm wondering if your love's still strong

Ooh baby, here I am, signed, sealed, delivered

I'm yours

Finn almost stumbled as he took a step forward, pointing to the surprised brunette.

Oohh

Then that time I went and said goodbye

Now I'm back and not ashamed to cry

Oo baby, here I am, signed, sealed delivered

I'm yours

With a slight pause, the footballer kneeled in front of the diva, clasped her hands and stared honestly into her eyes. Quinn had told him that this next part was important. It was the point of the song. That Rachel needed to feel reassured. She needed to know despite his inadequacies and mistakes he was entirely hooked on her even if she was leaving.

I'm yours

The diva blushed under the attention. Kurt looked surprised but completely proud of his stepbrother for such a romantic act whilst Brittany swayed happily. Santana looked on suspiciously as Quinn kept her eyes on the small singer, cataloging the changes. Rachel had a small smile as she leaned forwards in her chair, trying to get closer to Finn.

Said here I am baby

Signed, sealed delivered, I'm yours

Said here I am baby

Signed, sealed delivered, I'm yours

Done a lot of foolish things

That I really didn't mean

Yeah, yeah, didn't I, oh baby

The blonde had to hand it to the boy. He had taken all her suggestions to heart, pouring everything into it. And it _was _working. The small quirk of the singer's lips had evolved into a heartwarming grin. And with closed eyes, the brunette focused all her attention on the words, letting the meaning wash over her.

Seen a lot of things in this old world

When I touched them they did nothing, girl

Oo baby, here I am, signed, sealed delivered, I'm yours, oh I'm yours

Reaching Rachel's chair, Finn circling it, trying to make Rachel the center of his world.

Oo-wee babe you set my soul on fire

Thats why I know you are my hearts only desire

Oo baby, here I am, signed, sealed delivered, I'm yours

Shaking her head adorably, Rachel couldn't believe that Finn had gone this far; reaffirming the belief that he was worth waiting for. The sincerity in his eyes and the slight emotional cracks in his voice. The song had managed to answer her every fear. Starting from their uncertain future. The possibility that Finn's feelings had changed. Ending with a promise that, everything he was, was hers. Granted it wasn't as elegant as 'Pretending' it was still everything she wanted. With the exception of her fathers, nobody had taken the time to show her that she _was _everything. The lyrics were soothing as they communicated an apology and unconditional love. Rachel didn't want to stop it, letting her feelings for Finn flare up.

So engrossed in the performance, she didn't notice the attention of the blonde beside her. Quinn felt a sense of achievement rush through her. For whatever it was worth, it seemed that her music, her talent was enough to impact _someone_. Berry was responding favorably to the song. It was never a question of whether she would or not, but _how._ Some tension slid out of the blonde as she leaned back, her vision catching on the blush of the divas cheeks and the love in her eyes. _Everyone has somebody. _The blonde shrugged off the sense loneliness, focusing on the music. Every now and then her ears keyed into a slight gasp of happiness emitting from the diva.

Here I am baby

(Signed, sealed delivered, I'm yours)

Oh, you've got the future in your hand

Here I am baby,

(Signed, sealed, delivered, I'm yours)

Oh, you've got the future in your hand

Done a lot of foolish things

That I really didn't mean

I could be a broken man but here I am

Towards the end, the rest of New Directions began singing along, figuring the song out. Finn, once again moved in front of the small singer. The footballer started, with everyone else alternating and jumping in (brackets).

With your future, got your future babe

(Here I am baby)

Puck and Lauren echoed.

Here I am baby

(Signed, sealed delivered, I'm yours)

Sam, Kurt and Mercedes joined in.

Come on darling

Here I am baby,

(Here I am baby)

Tina, Mike and Artie sang.

Here I am baby

(Signed, sealed delivered, I'm yours)

Begrudgingly Quinn sang the line. Her soft voice cutting clear across the room, a large contrast to that of Finn's just a second before. Rachel's head lifted up at the sound. Her eyes widening as her lips parted. _Quinn really did have a beautiful singing voice. _Unconsciously, they held each other's intense gaze even after the blonde had sang the last word. The brunette's thoughts lingered in the last word. It sounded different coming from the other girl._.._ But then, Finn's voice made Quinn snap straighter in her chair as she turned away with a frown. _What just happened? _This sleep deprivation was having horrible effects on her.

Here I am baby,

(Here I am baby)

Rolling her eyes Santana accompanied Brittany, keeping a firm eye on their ex-captain. There was something weird going one between the three of them. Ranging from the uncertain looks the footballer directed on the blonde to the focused attention she was giving to the brunette. _What was Q doing? God, please don't be cheating with Finnocence again. _The Latina acknowledged that this song was better, more to Finn's level. And if it wasn't for slight the slight movement of the ex-captain's fingers with the changing notes or the footballer's stumble over some words, she would have never figured it out… that Quinn wrote this. The lingering apprehension from nationals grew.

Here I am baby

(Signed, sealed delivered, I'm yours)

The football finished strongly. With in seconds the small diva was in his arms, shyly whispering.

"That was beautiful, Finn."

Santana scoffed softly whilst Brittany gave her a disapproving glance. The tall boy took a deep breath before asking.

"Go out on a proper date with me?"

"Ok"

Rachel nodded leaning into the beaming footballer. Most of the club grinned at the sight, congratulating the Finn for his performance. The diva might not be their favourite person but they were a family. Few noticed the pensive blonde on the sidelines, looking anywhere but there. None saw the sad but accepting smile.

"Finn that was great. Now, guys its time to get to down to business. Next week is our annual Boys versus Girl's tournament. Everyone split up and figure out which song's you'll sing."

/

After spending an hour squabbling about song choices, the girls were nowhere. They could hear the excited murmurings of the boys as they made their pick. For a moment every girl wondered if it would be easier to be like that, to not overanalyze everything.

"Ok guys, that's enough for today. I can't wait to see these performances next week!"

Mr Schue dismissed the group and everyone started filing out. Just as Quinn stood up a small hand held her back. The small diva looked up at her with a grin.

"Quinn, don't move my stars next time."

The blonde rolled her eyes trying to hide the chuckle that threatened to escape. However nothing stopped the appearance of her amused smirk when she passed the signup sheet on her way out. The brunette had moved her star back to its original spot and attached a silver star instead next to Quinn's name. _Berry, I'm never second place._

/

The next few days at McKinley were unstable to say the least. Kelsey had made it her life's mission to alienate the school into submission, focusing on Rachel Berry as the prime example. It was a sound strategy; pick off the easy member of the herd to scare the others. Except Rachel wasn't weak and she wasn't alone.

Whenever the head cheerleader came into striking distance either Finn or Puck would be there to protect her. It had taken a bit of time but Quinn had managed to train the giant footballer with just a look. The look appeared when Rachel was struggling with her books. The same look also appeared just before the diva would lose her composure and it appeared whenever she was alone. In an instant Finn would respond, always thankful for the blonde's help. He loved Rachel but he didn't have the ability to foresee future events and wasn't able to read her, at least not in the same way. Only Santana noticed the exchanges. The blonde always kept the other girl in sight. She would never step in directly to help the diva; always making sure someone else did. Brittany, Santana and Quinn spent most of the time enforcing the power they had. The school was divided in half. Those scared the blonde and those scared of the redhead.

Rachel held her head high as she walked down the halls. She wouldn't let these people bring her down. There was only one more year left. Despite the slushies and the violent taunts of the cheerleaders she never felt better. The events had brought the diva closer to those in the glee club, all sharing her burden. Finn had been incredibly sweet. Without instruction he was moving her chair out like a gentleman, stepping in front of slushies and providing constant reassurance. It was like a switch had been activated. Albeit sometimes he was a little late, the footballer was getting progressively better at expressing his concern. The only person that had kept away during the ordeal was Quinn. Even the Latina clapped her on the back, saying 'keep it up, manhands.' Stopping in front of her locker Rachel couldn't help but turn her head searching for the ex-head cheerio. She heard the familiar cold HBIC tone before seeing the blonde round the corner, leaning into the redhead's space.

"Kelsey! You slushied Artie? He's in a _wheelchair_. What is wrong with you?"

"Nobody is immune Quinn. He's a part of glee club and you _all_ need to learn your place."

The cheerleader said nonchalantly, moving back a step. This caused the blonde's features to twist into disdain. Shaking her head, Quinn slammed the redhead's locker.

"Then try me. Heck, try Santana. Pick on someone your own size and let's see how long you last."

Kelsey jumped in alarm, shrinking under the ex-captain's withering glare.

"You know what? Fine, we'll leave wheels alone. But you think you're better than us, just because you're defending them now? You're not."

The red head raised her arms up in mock surrender backing away. She knew when to cut her losses. The blonde was left feeling cold despite her win. Looking up she saw the diva watching by the lockers, feeling the effects from the adrenaline. Rachel tilted her head with an expression of pride and awe. The ex-cheerleader froze before stalking away.

/

Outside, on the bleachers Quinn rubbed her face, trying to remember the events that had brought her here. Did it start when she transferred here? Or the second she stopped being Lucy Caboosey? Either way she couldn't help feeling guilty, watching Kelsey and the footballers push others around. There was a time when she could have stopped everything with one word. There was also a time where she would be the one throwing the corn syrup.

The blonde sighed. She remembered the diva's piercing stare in the halls. Quinn had made it point stay away. Talking to brunette reminded her of the unpleasant past, bringing back all the insults and bullying she had done. Berry had always been her fixation; she needed to make the girl break. The old HBIC Quinn Fabray needed to know that Rachel Berry wasn't better than her, that she wasn't stronger…

"You know, none of this is your fault, Quinn"

_Of course Berry would be the one to find her. The girl just couldn't leave well enough alone._

"What do you want Berry?

"You looked like you could use someone to talk to."

Quinn laughed bitterly.

"I don't _need_ to talk to anyone."

Rachel nodded in acceptance, knowing not to push the blonde. Instead they spent the rest of the period sitting in silence watching the footballers run around without a care. No demands were placed and nothing else was mentioned. Quinn found that the diva wasn't that bad when she didn't speak incessantly. It wasn't till the end that the brunette walked up to Quinn placing a hand on her shoulder.

"Thank you Quinn."

"For what?"

A hesitant Rachel took a deep breath, unsure how to put it. But she needed the other girl to understand.

"For staying in glee when it would've been easier to revert back to cheerios. For defending Artie today."

The blonde looked away, trying to ignore the words. She didn't deserve them. When she turned around the brunette had disappeared now on the field chatting animatedly to Finn. Quinn felt some tension drain away. At least something had gone right.

"Whatever..."

/

The next day.

A sharp whistle blew. All of the girls collapsed on the spot. Sue had imposed 3-hour biweekly training sessions. Being the second one this week, Quinn could barely stand. Santana was trying to catch her breath whilst Brittany rubbed her back comfortingly.

"Ok. Go home. You disgust me. You think this is hard? Try stomaching your game stats, that's hard! Most of you couldn't even give me another run, let alone a win."

Most of the girls shot the coach a dirty look, before scampering off. One girl fell a total three times before making it to her car. The suicides had turned their legs into jelly. Quinn shook her head exasperatedly. She was sure that anyone training under Sue Sylvester was probably fit enough to enlist in the army. Santana moaned as she lifted herself up. Every time one of Coach Sylvester's pitches had gotten close to hitting the tall dancer she had stepped in. Towards the end, Quinn helped take some of the shots as well. The two alpha girls' were the only ones with softball experience. _Summer camps don't ask. _Thankfully, Brittany was a quick study. By the end she had started matching their number of runs. But that didn't say much about the rest of the team.

"Q, I hate you so much right now."

Santana growled as she tried to stand on her own. The blonde shook her head in apology, wincing as she tried to reach for her car keys.

"I don't know… Coach hated softball. Why is she even here?"

The Latina shrugged, making her way to her car, managing to open Brittany's door for her despite her muscle aches. The two girls waved to their ex-captain before leaving. The blonde watched them leave before returning to the search for her keys. _They had to be here somewhere…_

When she did, Quinn started her engine stopping at the red light by the school gate. She drummed her fingers on the clutch before a small figure caught her eyes. Berry? The diva was sitting by the bus stop with a frown as she continually checked the timetable. It was already starting to get dark now that cold was coming. Pushing down the twinge of concern, Quinn focused on the traffic lights, willing it to go green. She didn't want to think about the brunette having done enough of that thanks to Finn. However a few thoughts seemed to filter in. the first one being didn't one of her father's normally pick her up?

The light turned green. _Drive home Quinn, Berry can take care of her self._ The blonde kept repeating that thought like a mantra. It didn't help. Somehow her car had stopped in front of the station. Quinn couldn't help but scowl, mentally slapping her self for caring. Rolling down her windows she barked impatiently.

"Berry what are you still doing here?"

Rachel jumped up in alarm taking a break from scrutinizing the timetable.

"Waiting for the bus. I've been waiting for quite a while: half an hour to be exact. Lima really does have a poor public transport system, there are nu – "

"Ugh Berry you're giving me a headache. Which bus are you waiting for?"

"The 136. I need to get to Carl's Ice-creamery for the night shift."

"Berry, the 136 stops coming after 5 o'clock."

The blonde deadpanned. Rachel's eyes widened as she checked the timetable. Lo and behold there it was in the fine print, certain busses stopped its route after five. Quinn rolled her eyes, sighing in annoyance. She just knew she was going to regret this.

"Just get in."

The diva backed away in unease.

"I'm not sure that's a great idea Quinn. You don't have to do this I can j –"

The blonde squeezed her eyes shut counting to ten in her head.

"Berry! Just. Do. It."

/

It had been a relatively quiet ride. Both girls had a lot on their mind. Rachel couldn't help but stare at the blonde's profile. The green eyes were focused on the road as some wayward strands fell over her face. The diva fought the urge to brush it back for the other girl, knowing it would not be well received. Even sweaty and covered in dirt Quinn was beautiful. During the course of the ride the lines had smoothed out of the ex-cheerleader's expression, as her whole body seemed to relax. The blonde was probably unaware of it but she had started to hum the song Finn had sung the other day. Rachel let the soft sound wash over her.

"So why didn't one of your dads pick you up?"

Rachel looked up. The blonde was still focused on the road.

"Both of them have work on Thursdays. It's daddy's on call night at the hospital whilst dad has presentation night at the office. Normally it isn't a problem because I don't have work and am hence home much earlier."

Quinn nodded as she stopped the car in front of the shop.

"Thank you Quinn."

Rachel got out of the car.

"Stop saying that Berry."

The blonde rolled her eyes as she restarted the engine. After she couldn't see the headlights anymore, the brunette walked happily into the frozen treats shop. She was convinced that the blonde was warming up to her.

/

Later that night Quinn was up in her room studying. The blonde had no idea about what she wanted to be yet but she knew she needed good grades to get there. Judy knocked before she walked in.

"Quinn, honey, do you mind going down to he grocers and picking up some sugar and flour? I completely forgot and it's my turn to bring snacks tomorrow for book club."

"Sure mom."

The blonde had needed a break anyway. You knew you had been at it too long when the diagrams in the textbook started talking to you. On her way back home she passed Carl's Ice-creamery, barely managing to stop in time when she finally registered the small diva sitting outside on the steps. Rachel's lips had a bluish tinge as her breathing stood out against the cold. _What was Berry thinking? _Without saying a word, Quinn leaned over, opening the passenger door to a surprised brunette. No words were spoken as the diva slid in, teeth chattering to an erratic beat. The blonde turned up the heater. In doing so her arms brushed against the brunette, igniting electricity in both girls despite the temperature. The blonde reached for her letterman lying on the backseat, throwing it at the shivering girl.

The car moved slowly down the streets, Rachel started to regain feeling in her limbs wrapping the jacket closer. It was a better fit that Finn's was.

"Quinn how do you know where I live?"

At this the blonde flushed, one hand rubbing her neck sheepishly.

"Santana wanted egg your house back in freshman year."

The brunette's eyes widened.

"I got sick the night before so the whole plan was scrapped but she never remembered."

The blonde went on to explain, needing to fill the silence.

"I suppose I should be grateful to you then Quinn."

"Thank the flu bug. I was out for 3 days. Coach Sylvester had the squad run double the suicides for my _weakness in the face of battle."_

The last few words slipping out sarcastically as the blonde mimicked the older woman's tone. Rachel chuckled. Their interactions were strange, but they were trying. After the Finn's song the brunette wasn't sure how the blonde would be. So she tried to avoid setting the other girl off whilst Quinn tried ignore the negative feelings that she had always associated with the diva. _Baby steps, right?_

"Why didn't you tell me you didn't have a ride home?"

"What would you have done?"

Rachel asked curiously, efficiently shutting the other girl up. The brunette explained.

"I thought I'd be able to Kurt or Mercedes to pick me up, since Finn can't drive."

Quinn couldn't help but snicker. The footballer hadn't been able to get behind the wheel since the mailman incident. Each time he tried he started shaking and stammering.

"That still doesn't explain why you were out there when I saw you Berry."

"I couldn't get through when I called them."

Quinn didn't say anything as she turned into the Berry's driveway. It was a nice enough house, nothing like the Fabray mansion but definitely warm looking. Rachel stepped out, immediately missing the warmth of the blonde's car. She had half a mind to jump back in.

"Good night Quinn. I appreciate you driving me home."

The blonde shrugged it off, determined to forget it ever happened. It was only when she reached her home when she realized she forgot to get her letterman back.

_Great._

/

Yay! Closer slowly but surely. :D I love mixing new and old Quinn XD. Uh oh Kelsey is the new big evil at McKinley and including the Brittany/Santana/ Quinn friendship is fun. For some reason I can't get enough of that dynamic.

Sorry for the delay, hope it was worth it. You guys know the drill by now. Any thoughts let me know.


	4. Chapter 4 Boys vs

**Chapter 4 – Boys vs…**

Ok ok please don't murder me for the late update. I was dragged to a spontaneous hiking trip and with no computer access. Yes, the horror. Love This, I'm glad I could help better your day and I'll try to hurry the updates. But my brain is a giant slacker. However I promise that I will never abandon this fic. It's like my baby project this year.

/

Quinn made her way to her first class. She had a permanent crick in her neck from sleeping badly the night before. Her mom had started talking about her old Alma Mata, forcing the blonde to think about the uncertain future. It wasn't by any means a relaxing discussion. A few paces in front, a group of footballers surrounded a small mousy looking freshman. Big doe eyes elicited a sense of familiarity. Quinn knew that the brunette was three more taunts from hyperventilating and she couldn't help but feel a rush of annoyance. _Why was it always the same? _The ex-cheerleader snatched the slushie from the nearest footballer.

"Leave her alone. Go. Now."

Azimio and some senior footballers recognized the hard tone, smirking as they took steps back. It wasn't worth the trouble. The fact that it was Quinn, who had once upon a time instigated all of this, was not lost on them. In fact it was always on the forefront of their minds; exactly what she was capable of.

"Yeah whatever, she wasn't any fun anyway."

"What are you guys doing? Kelsey told us to do it and you're listening to _her_?"

An indignant voice emerged from within the footballers, someone the blonde didn't recognize. The boy wore an oversized jersey coupled with a jet-black buzz cut. _Another freshman_. Another person eager to fit in and obey the newly minted head cheerio, Quinn guessed. She couldn't help but register the generational gap watching as the senior jocks moved away, as if to eliminate their affiliation with the young footballer. Unlike others, this boy wasn't scared of her. The blonde could only wonder how many like him roamed the halls, blindly following Kelsey simply because they had never experienced HBIC Quinn Fabray. For the first time, Quinn realizes that putting the redhead down was going to be harder than she thought…

"Nate, step down. You don't want to do this."

Finn interrupted behind her, before the blonde could reprimand the boy. It seemed it was enough. Nate turned around and stalked off. He may not know who the blonde was but he knew that he couldn't afford to anger the captain of the team he was on. Quinn turned around, glaring at the giant footballer. She needed to make everyone afraid of her if she was going to deal with Kelsey. That freshman was going to be an example. Finn picked the wrong time to play knight in shining armor. Taken aback the tall footballer stalled for a second. _Scary Quinn. Hadn't he done something good?_

"I didn't need your help Finn! Why are you even here? You should be babysitting Berry."

The blonde hissed.

"Um. I needed to talk to you and you looked like you needed some help. I know Nate so…look don't worry, Puck's with Rachel right now."

Finn looked confused as babbled on. Annoyed, the blonde leaned against her locker keeping an eye out for any cheerios.

"I'm not. Speak, Hudson."

The footballer looked around cautiously before dragging the blonde into an empty classroom. A couple of weird looks were directed their way, to which the blonde just rolled her eyes. _Get a life people. _Neither saw the small diva round the corner excitedly. Neither noticed gasp that escaped as they disappeared behind closed doors.

"Finn! What do you want?"

Quinn ran her fingers through her chopped locks, letting it fall around her face. She loved the freedom that came with this haircut. It made her feel lighter, less like her old self despite the events of this week. She remembers that the mean girl persona is just a facade, not real.

"I just thought I could get your opinion for me and Rachel's date."

_Of course you did. _Quinn rolled her eyes, staring at a spot on the wall. When Finn didn't say anything she turned to fix the boy with a pointed stare. This seemed to galvanize the footballer.

"Well, I was thinking I'd take her out to a dinner at Breadstix and then maybe a movie."

At this the blonde couldn't help but bury her face in her palms in exasperation. _What was it with this town and Breadstix? _Sure, it was good every once in a while but could hardly be considered as a staple food. Eventually she looked up and made her way to the blackboard, picking up a piece of chalk.

"Finn, Berry is vegan."

"Yeah so?"

The footballer asked innocently. The ex-cheerleader didn't know whether to laugh or cry. He really could be _that_ dense sometimes.

"So don't take her to Breadstix. It's not a date when all Berry gets to do is watch you eat… Try again."

Finn blushed under the blonde's amused look. Quinn had this uncanny ability to make anyone feel three feet tall. He watched as she continued her doodle on the board, placing all her effort on whatever she was doing. It was one of the aspects that made her so attractive. Everything the blonde did, there was focus, ambition and a sense of surety.

"Um, what about that Thai place on third?"

The girl let out an aggravated sigh. This time she didn't even turn around, punctuating each phrase with a tap on the blackboard.

"Finn, let me put it this way, there are only four restaurants in Lima _if_ you count that disturbing burger van that Puck gets his lunch from. How many times do you think Berry has been to the _only_ vegan friendly one?"

"A lot?"

"Yeah, I'd think so."

The ex-cheerleader paused, taking a break from her sketch. Part of her felt sorry for the footballer, to care so much but be _that_ clueless. Feelings could cripple people. So it was like losing either way. Finn's proud hopeful expression present five minutes ago had all but disappeared, replaced by a segment of self-berating. Quinn tilted her head, searching for the duster.

"Look, make her a picnic or something. It says you're a romantic; you care and you have more skills than just throwing a football around. Berry will love that you went through that much trouble for her and it'll make her feel secure."

The footballer brightened up at the suggestion. _Maybe Kurt could help_. Watching Quinn move back to her picture, he couldn't help but wonder why she was helping him. She hated Rachel or at the very least wanted to punch the diva, constantly. Still he was convinced the blonde cared to some extent. It was just hard to reconcile the two personas that she had. There was the girl refused to leave Brittany or Santana behind at Coach Sylvester's 'special camp' and then there was the one, who roamed the hallways of McKinley. The only question was which was he dealing with now.

"Thanks Quinn."

The blonde didn't answer waving the boy out. She hadn't been paying much attention when she started sketching just letting her mind run. It helped her relax and distract from her desire to knock some sense into the footballer. She was never the most patient person in the room. Placing the finishing touches on her sketch, the blonde took a step back to examine the finished product.

"Oh, you've got to be kidding me…"

On the board was a doodle that bore an alarming resemblance to one Rachel Berry.

_I've got to stop helping Finn. This…this must be what insanity feels like. _

Quinn pursed her lips, trying to see something else, _anything else _in her sketch.

/

By lunchtime, the blonde was at the end of her rope, cursing the giant footballer with every step she took. Ever since he had taken her into that room to discuss Berry, rumors had been flying around. It was like last year again. As she passed several students she could hear whisperings; words such as cheater and slut standing out among all others. Several snickering cheerios shoved her as they walked past, only to regret it when met with an angry Santana. However, that wasn't the most distressing aspect. The saddening part was that even a few glee kids seemed to buy into the lie with Kurt and Mercedes directing cautious glances her way. And really, who was she to blame them? After all, look at her track record. Surprisingly the little diva was the one person she hadn't encountered.

Quinn sighed as she sat herself in front of the piano; somehow she had made her way into the auditorium. _How did she always end up in this position? _Contrary to popular belief the blonde didn't make a habit of coming in between relationships. Before Finn and the brunette she followed a relatively simple set of guidelines, don't lie, don't steal and don't cheat. She let her fingers dance on the ivory keys as a simple tune filled the room trying to lose her self. But she couldn't ignore it as Rachel nervously made her way to the piano from the corner of her eye. They had done this before… and it looked like they were going to do this again. Quinn looked up, meeting the singer's uncertain look.

"Ask me."

Those two words threw both girls back to that moment, a year ago. Rachel took a deep breath, pressing forward.

"Are you and Finn together behind my back?"

Resisting the urge to roll her eyes Quinn held the other girl in a stern gaze. The blonde understood that the short singer needed this, reassurance, security, whatever. She just wasn't sure she was the right person to give it. Nearly all of the Berry's insecurities probably stemmed from her. No, she wasn't being arrogant. It was just the truth; they had never been able to get along and Quinn had been horrible. She took her hands off the keys.

"No."

Rachel hesitated at the conviction in the blonde's reply. She wanted to believe in Quinn, she did, but she watched the two go into that classroom. She saw the proud skip in Finn's step as he exited the room. _What was she supposed to think? She wasn't Quinn._ The blonde was beautiful, strong and talented. It seemed even without her cheerios uniform she was still an authority at McKinley. Objectively Rachel knew she couldn't compete.

"I saw, you know. I saw everything, Quinn."

The blonde let out a frustrated sigh, hitting one of the keys sharply. She didn't know why it bothered her so much that the diva wasn't letting it go, didn't believe her. Maybe it was because the brunette always had faith in everyone else. Or maybe she missed the look of soft approval she saw at Nationals. And sometimes, sometimes Quinn was just tired of trying. She _was_ a safe bet. _But it didn't really matter, anyway._

"I'm sure you did. So what, pray tell, did you see Berry?"

"You and Finn disappear into the home economics classroom this morning. Everyone's talking about it. I know we aren't friends and for that we're probably both at fault. But with what happened at prom and nationals I thought we were close enough to stop doing this."

Unable to hold the blonde's piercing, the diva looked down. The last thing she wanted to do was break down in front of Quinn. Quiet filled the auditorium and both girls wanted to be anywhere else. _Could silence be deafening? _The ex-cheerleader stood up, walking towards the shaking diva, placing a hand on the grand piano behind them. The brunette flinched, causing a stab of remorse flow through the taller girl.

"Look I can only say this so many times, Finn _doesn't _want me. I _don't _want him. There's nothing I can do if you've already made up your mind, but the truth is there…"

Quinn's voice was soft, slow and measured. For Rachel, the concept of putting all her faith in someone that had bullied her for most of her high school life seemed ridiculous. But looking into the blonde's eyes, she knew wanted to try.

"Then tell me what you were doing in that room with him, Quinn..."

And like that, a switch flipped, groan and growls falling from the blonde's lips as she whirled away angrily. Quinn didn't have an answer. At least not one she was willing to give. What could she say? _I was helping my ex-boyfriend, your current boyfriend with date plans? _She didn't even need to be psychic to know how that was going to turn out.

"God Berry! Why do you make it so hard to be nice to you?"

Quinn walked back to the brunette, towering over her personal space. A flash of hurt appeared, but the blonde was past caring. She thought about all the insults, looks and sneers she had gotten in the hallway for something she didn't even do. It seemed that no matter what happened, the universe permanently punishing her. And here was the brunette, who had everything; family, friends, love and the diva couldn't accept it. _Why couldn't she just accept it? _Quinn was turning the footballer into everything she had ever wanted and everything Rachel Berry needed. Aggravation bubbled up, her face a perfect storm of rage and pain, nearly losing her grip on her emotions.

"Do you want him to cheat is that it? Because keep pushing those insecurities and I _guarantee_ you Berry, that'll happen! God. You are so frustrating! "

Rachel shook her head, trying to rid herself of the other girl's words. Finn wouldn't leave her again, not this time. They had finally gotten it right. She looked up. Quinn was standing in front of her breathing heavily. Rachel could see the cracks in the other girl's composure and she was torn. The blonde was obviously hiding something but was it worth it? She watched as the ex-cheerleader walked down the steps, pausing at the door.

"Stop questioning everything Berry. You're finally getting your _perfect _little schoolgirl fantasy."

The doors slammed. Hard. It wasn't until the bell rung that Rachel realized she had been standing in the same spot for the last ten minutes. Quinn's letterman remained untouched in her bag. She didn't even get a chance to return it.

/

"Alright everyone, the guys are ready to perform their number for the Boy vs. Girls competition. However before we start I need someone who can play the piano. Brad, our accompanist is sick today and he hasn't transposed a piano version yet. So can anyone play?"

Mr Schue looked at his students imploringly, hoping that someone had the training.

"What about you, Rachel? I've seen you play before."

"I would Mr Schue but I can only play if I have the sheet music."

Rachel said embarrassedly, feeling as if she let the club down. It wasn't everyday that there was an aspect of glee or music that she wasn't extremely knowledgeable. Santana smirked as she watched Quinn shrink back into her seat.

"Q can do it."

The blonde shot the Latina a dirty look as Brittany did a little cheer. Rachel simply looked confused.

"I don't think Quinn has the training to transpose the music at a moments glance."

To this Santana scoffed whilst Quinn quirked her eyebrows. _What?_

"That's where you're wrong dwarf. Q is a trained concert level pianist."

A series of gasps flowed throughout the glee club. Why hadn't the blonde told them sooner? Quinn ignored the others as she walked resignedly to the piano. When she looked up she met Rachel's puzzled but pensive glance. Quinn rolled her eyes. After the experience in the auditorium the two girls had kept away, barely even acknowledging the other. Taking a glance at the music sheet the blonde mentally made the changes, beginning the initial keys of the song. Artie opened by rolling in front of joyful Brittany. Santana crossed her arms huffing into her seat.

She said baby our love's just like your songs

The beat ain't bad but the words are all wrong

It's time to pack my bags, it's time to just move on

She sang Johnny, I'm gone, gone, gone

And she was gone

Brittany playfully shoves Artie's wheelchair away only to lean back into Santana. At this, Finn moved forward slipping Artie a high five.

Me and Leigh met summer of '95

In a burgundy dress lookin' finer than a French wine

A Cajun queen with another side

She was a schoolboy's dream, I was out of my mind

Quinn continued playing as she watched Finn move towards the diva. A blushing Rachel smiled happily as the footballer dragged her out of her seat to do a twirl. The blonde felt a bit of pride. Finn was learning. Maybe the task wasn't completely hopeless.

She was lookin' fine

She said "You want to drive me home"

But what I didn't know...

All the boys joined in as they moved in a line in front of the girls, dancing around their chairs. Brittany was ecstatic as she let her body move with the beat. Mercedes was glowing. Rachel was cheering behind her hands. Even Santana was moving along with Kurt. For a second, Quinn felt the need to protect this moment and everyone in it from outsiders. Yes _even Berry. _Things were finally good.

Ooh, Ooh - I was dancing with the

Queen of New Orleans

Ooh, Ooh - Dancing in the streets of New Orleans

Ooh, Ooh - Dancing cheek to cheek in New Orleans

Ooh, Ooh - It was almost like a dream

Puck took the reins on the next verse, sidling up to an enthusiastic Lauren. His arms tracing the figure eight body motion, making the all the girls chuckle. He shot Lauren a wink.

That night I made a move, man I fell hard

When I put my hands in her cookie jar

She was more than a girl, she was a cabaret star

I was a deer in the lights of a speeding car

Nothing's what it seems

She was a Venus de Milo in her sister's jeans

All the boys started singing again, encouraging their stationary partners to move and dance along.

Ooh, Ooh - I was dancing with the

Queen of New Orleans

Ooh, Ooh - Dancing in the streets of New Orleans

Ooh, Ooh - Dancing cheek to cheek in New Orleans

Ooh, Ooh - It was almost like a dream

During the interlude Mike and Quinn took advantage, allowing for some improvisation to go along with the guitar riff. Everyone cheered as they watched her fingers move fluidly along the keys with a practiced ease, all pleasant surprised. The ex-cheerleader was gifted and nobody had known.

Ooh, Ooh - I was dancing with the

Queen of New Orleans

Ooh, Ooh - Dancing in the streets of New Orleans

Ooh, Ooh - I was Dancing cheek to cheek in New Orleans

Ooh, Ooh - Dancing with the Queen down Bourbon St.

Quinn joined the boys letting her voice create a soft background. At the sound the Rachel couldn't help but cast a glance towards the blonde despite having her face buried in Finn's shoulder. They were only swaying to the music, after the footballer's failed attempts at dancing. The diva was desperately trying to merge the image of the harsh unyielding person she had encountered at lunchtime to the girl in front of the piano now. Temporarily the ex-cheerleader looked up, only to see the other girl staring. She felt some tension fall away. For some reason she couldn't or rather _wouldn't_ let her self be the first to look away. Their eyes stayed locked, as the rest of the girls made their way back to their seats and the boys geared for the final chorus. The ex-cheerleader continued to provide background vocals and Rachel shifted in her seat.

Ooh, Ooh - I was dancing with the

Queen of New Orleans

Ooh, Ooh - Dancing in the streets of New Orleans

Ooh, Ooh - Nothings what it seems in New Orleans

Ooh, Ooh - Dancing with the Queen of New Orleans

Ooh, Ooh - I was dancing with the Queen of New Orleans

The room erupted in cheers. The boys had done very well. In fact, it left some of the girls unsure about their song selection. They were obviously going to have to pick something better.

"Alright that was fantastic! Ladies you've got hard road ahead of you tomorrow. That's it for today. Nice job on the piano, Quinn."

Mr Schue dismissed the group. As the boys left the room, all the girls remained seated, mulling over their chances at winning this year. Santana was the first to speak up.

"Well… that was unexpected. We're screwed."

Mercedes and Tina nodded in agreement, both at a loss as to what to do.

"How did they get so good? Did they take those yummy vitamins again?"

The tall dancer asked innocently. Rachel shook her head moving to the front of the room.

"It's not them, it's us. Girls, we've become complacent after Nationals, expecting things to just fall into place whilst the boys have obviously been working very hard. Now we need something extraordinary to beat them."

"Then what do you suggest, Berry? Something from Rent? Wicked? Oh _I know _Barbra Streisand!"

Quinn muttered, rearranging the sheet music on the piano, her voice dripping with aggravation. She tired enduring it all, the whining, the insecurities and the blame. She _wasn't _cheating. She _didn't _deserve the abuse she was getting. The Latina smirked, as the little diva faltered. _Manhands out of words_._ Priceless._

"What about Girl's Just Want to Have Fun, it's a classic."

Mercedes offered.

"Not a chance Wheezy. Its overdone and overrated."

Santana instantly shot down the idea. Ever since Brittany had an obsession with the song in the third grade both she and Quinn had heard enough Cyndi Lauper to last their _combined _lifetimes. Both alpha girls cringed.

"How about Any Man of Mine? It's a girl anthem and it may teach the boys some lessons."

Lauren suggested. Surprisingly, it wasn't a bad idea; the others simply wondered if it would be enough to secure the win. Till finally, Rachel cleared her throat as genius struck.

"We should do I am a Good Girl from the hit musical film Burlesque. Its new, its sexy and I think that with Mercedes and my voice we could pull it off and give the guys a run for their money."

Quinn tilted her head, cautious about the unexpected proposal from the diva. It wasn't the type of song she would usually pick. Apprehension descended on the blonde. However, looking around it seemed as if any disagreements were going to be over ruled. Brittany was already clapping her hands excitedly. Likewise, Tina and Mercedes had started whispering about costumes. Even Santana was nodding in approval. Rachel was looking everywhere to avoid Quinn's piercing gaze.

"Good on you Stubbles. Normally I'd say you have the music selection of an 80-year-old woman but this is actually a good idea. Didn't think you had it in you to do a song like that."

The other girls nodded in agreement with the Latina. Though, the brunette gaze was burning holes in the blonde by the piano, when she responded.

"You don't know me…"

/

A few days later…

Quinn rubbed the strain out of her calf muscles. Although softball training hadn't gotten any easier, the team was starting to improve. The blonde didn't want to say it aloud _ever_ but maybe Coach Sylvester had the winning touch. Half the girls had started to make the pitches they were thrown whilst becoming significantly faster at reaching the bases. Maybe there was hope after all. Santana and Brittany sat down next her removing their gear.

"So Q, Britts wants to get ice cream and you're joining us."

The blonde narrowed her eyes.

"Where?"

"Carl's is probably the only place open this late."

_Right. Why wouldn't it be? _Quinn pursed her lips at Santana's reply. There goes her plan of avoiding Berry. After the whole Finn classroom debacle, all three of them had kept their distance. With half the school convinced of their cheating, the footballer apologized profusely but the damage was done. The brunette questioned, commented and picked apart every suggestion the blonde made whilst also making sure to be extra attentive and affectionate to Finn. Everyone could sense the difference between the three during rehearsals. The girls were erratic, at times disturbingly reasonable but could turn volcanic without notice. The fact that only Rachel and Quinn could provoke such a reaction from the other wasn't lost on the other glee members. What could they _really _say? _The blonde and the diva had a complicated…connection? Friendship? Whatever. _Everyone _tried_ to ignore Rachel when she was fixated and everyone _knew_ to avoid Quinn when she had that look of wrath in her eyes.

Crumpling under Brittany's pleading, Quinn let herself be dragged to the car.

/

Ding! The bell rung as Santana entered the ice cream parlor boisterously, stopping only to hold the door open for the tall blonde dancer. Quinn snickered as she felt the door swing back, almost meeting her in the face. The Latina possessed extreme tunnel vision when it came to the dancer, so much that it was often detrimental to those around them.

"Rachel!"

Brittany exclaimed, skipping her way to the counter to give the smaller and frozen girl a hug. Rachel had a deer in the headlights expression as she looked over the dancer's shoulders seeing her old tormentors at the door. Santana had a hand perched on her hip, as she looked the brunette up and down in amusement.

"Manhands? Nice uniform."

Rachel blushed looking down on her attire. She was dressed in a too-small yellow and blue polo and a short blue skirt. A cow head hat completed the image. She straightened up immediately when she realized whom she was talking to.

"Unfortunately, it is compulsory. What are you doing here Santana?"

The Latina shrugged indifferently, noticing that the diva's eyes were unfocussed. Behind her Quinn was fiddling with the napkin holder on the end of the counter, ignoring everyone in the room. Suddenly the fiery ex-cheerleader felt out of place as she watched the two girls lose themselves momentarily. Both Rachel and Quinn were thrown back to the day before school. The blonde remembered waking up to a sharp pain and a very concerned Berry. _She felt sheltered. _The brunette remembered what it was like to see the ex-head cheerio with her guard down sleeping on _that_ counter, without any hardness or self-doubt. _She was thankful. _For a moment their eyes met, before Santana grunted loudly, breaking the atmosphere.

"Britts and I wants to get our ice cream on."

At this, the tall blonde dancer brightened up immediately, placing her face against the glass to read the flavors.

"Dwarf, give me a double scoop of chocolate."

"San, be nice. Rachel, I want 3 scoops. Butterscotch, pistachio and hazelnut please."

The brunette smiled softly at dancer who was bouncing on the balls of her feet. Nobody could get mad at Brittany she was too innocent, quite literally like a kid in an ice cream store. Rachel handed the two girls their desert. Santana made her way to a booth sitting, whilst the dancer had her eyes glue to the top of the diva's head.

"Rachel. Can I have your hat? It looks awesome."

Brittany asked innocently. Behind her Santana was shaking her head furiously, making a cutthroat motions with her hands. At a loss, the diva looked to the one person who had been completely silent. Quinn's expression gave nothing away as she leaned against the counter watching the exchange. The brunette felt a pang, recognizing for the first time how much the blonde had changed. Since Quinn had joined glee she had started to express her emotions: happy or sad. Now, seeing the stone mask return, she couldn't help but sigh. Was it always going to be _one step forward, two steps back?_

Hesitantly, the diva handed over the embarrassing garment to which the dancer put on goofily. Brittany did the same thing for the hat as she did for the animal sweaters. Santana glared at the singer before turning to compliment the taller blonde, adjusting the hat to a tilt. The two ex-cheerleaders settled into the booth chatting animatedly.

Rachel didn't want to face what was next. Quinn stood in front of her with a wistful look as she scanned the menu. The blonde's eyebrows were furrowed adorably in thought. The brunette was conflicted, had been since that lunchtime at the auditorium. After that encounter it had just been a constant stream of suspicion and snide comments between the two girls. Internally, both were unnerved by how much they missed the old dynamic. But every now and then, they lost themselves and forgot that they _weren't_ friends, sharing a smile, a joke, something…and they wouldn't feel off kilter anymore.

- Flashback -

The girls had just finished choreographing the dance moves to I am a good girl. Lauren was sitting in the corner browsing the spy-cam surveillance equipment whilst Mercedes and Tina were placing the finishing touched on the costumes. Brittany and Santana were cuddled up, whispering in the corner. Quinn could feel a smile tug on her lip. It was good to see them together, happy. Finally she noted the small brunette sitting on floor with sheet music strewn around her. The diva was biting her bottom lip in concentration, her hair almost acting as a curtain.

Without thinking, the blonde finger's started the keys to One Republic's Secrets. She had just heard the song that morning and couldn't get it out of her head. The ex-head cheerio started to sing.

I need another story

Something to get off my chest

My life gets kinda boring

Need something that I can confess

The diva looked up at the sound, feeling drawn to the blonde's soft voice. Even Santana and Brittany stopped what they were doing to listen.

'Til all my sleeves are stained grey

From all the truth that I've said

Come by it honestly I swear

Thought you saw me wink, no

I've been on the brink, so

Quinn looked up, meeting everyone's gaze, lingering a bit on the brunette. Rachel's eyes were trained on the pianist with a scary intensity and reverence. Brittany looked in between the girls with a small smile, hugging the Latina closer.

Tell me what you want to hear

Something that were like those years

I'm sick of all the insincere

So I'm gonna give all my secrets away

This time

Don't need another perfect line

Don't care if critics ever jump in line

I'm gonna give all my secrets away

Everyone was blown away by the raw emotion behind those words. Her voice was slow and measured whilst the tones of the song deliberate. Rachel could just discern the glazed eyes and hesitant voice. Quinn was pushing her own limits and nobody could understand why.

My God

Amazing that we got this far

It's like we're chasing all those stars

Who's driving shiny big black cars

And everyday I see the news, all the problems that we could solve

And when a situation rises, just write it into an album

Seen it straight to go

I don't really like my flow, no, so

A depressingly sad smile appeared on the blonde's face with that line. Santana sat straighter, leaning forward. Quinn wasn't nearly as certain as she made herself out to be. The Latina remembered the ex-captain after her first slushie attack on an unsuspecting bookworm. The blonde was wrecked with self-hatred. Brittany nodded understandingly squeezing the Latina's hand. _Quinn was going to be all right._ Slowly, the diva heard her own voice join in, harmonizing perfectly. The blonde's head snapped up confusedly. Both continued the song.

Tell me what you want to hear

_(Are you and Finn together? …Being in something special makes you special, doesn't it? …I just want my senior year to mean something...)_

Something that were like those years

I'm sick of all the _**insincere**_

_(Manhands…Stubbles…Rupaul)_

So I'm gonna give all my secrets away

Hazel green eyes clashed with brown. Rachel checked her clothing and Quinn took a couple of deep breaths. _Was it possible to burn like this?_

This time

Don't need another perfect line

Don't care if critics ever jump in line

_(Slut…Preggers…Cheater…)_

_(Kelsey…Sue Sylvester… Rachel freaking Berry)_

I'm gonna give all my secrets away

Quinn sang the next part alone.

Oh, got no reason, got not shame

Got no family I can blame

Just don't let me disappear

Temporarily forgetting their feud, Rachel found herself wanting hold the blonde but that would've stopped the performance. The talented girl sounded so depressingly lost, pleading for something to hold onto. It was _hard_ not to respond. It was _impossible _not to feel anything.

I'mma tell you everything…

- End Flashback -

"Q! Hurry up and pick one already. It ain't hard."

Once again the Latina's voice brought both girls back. Quinn rolled her eyes while Rachel became increasingly flustered. She just didn't know how to _be _around the ex-head cheerio. Nothing about Quinn screamed safety but it _was_ only feeling that she associated with the girl. Maybe she was just masochistic.

"Berry, just give me a single scoop of vanilla."

Without looking up the brunette handed the blonde her ice cream. Electricity jumped along the length of their arms at contact, causing both girls to nearly drop the frozen treat. Neither said anything, barely registering the curious and suspicious looks of Brittany and Santana. The diva quickly dropped her hand turning around to wipe down the slushie maker. At that moment, anything was better than trying to figure the blonde out. It always hurt Quinn to be honest…and it always destroyed Rachel when she wasn't.

So when Rachel finally turned around the ex-captain was already sitting with the other two girls. Santana was slouched back on the bench with an arm wrapped around Brittany, who was happily eating her dessert. There was a softer look in Quinn's eyes as she addressed them, giving the Latina a light shove and a good-natured rolling of the eyes. _Three guesses as to what happened there._ The rigidity in her frame seemed to slowly drain out. Nobody could never quite understand the trio's friendship. They were mismatched in nearly every way, yet they _worked. Above all, they understood each other_.

/

"So Q, what's going on between you and the dwarf?"

Quinn looked up confused.

"Nothing, why?"

"Well for one, in true creepy Berry fashion she's been staring at you for the better part of the last hour."

Santana stated off handedly gesturing to the brunette, whom quickly pivoted and turned around to fiddle with one of the machines, muttering under her breath. The Latina rolled her eyes.

"Yeah I totally saw ya, manhands."

Quinn spared a glance to the counter, shrugging. Depending on the time of day, the diva was either directing an angry, suspicious, saddened or questioning look her way. It was strange but the blonde had gotten used to it a long time ago. In fact it actually made her weary when she couldn't feel the judging gaze other girl. The ex-cheerleader supposed it was just like her ability to always keep track to the short singer, something left over from their bullying filled past.

"Just leave her alone. She's probably still mad about the Finn thing."

"But you and Finn aren't just cheating. You're just helping because he's bad with music."

Brittany interjected. Santana chuckled at the blunt truth in the tall dancer's statement. Brittany really didn't understand what was going on. She just didn't like the fact that Rachel and Quinn were at odds again, not that they were ever close. But they had never been _this_ unsure of themselves and where they stood. It was just something they used to know, an unspoken understanding.

"Berry's just having a hard time believing me, Brittany. She'll get over it eventually."

Quinn softly told the dancer, trying to wipe away the small frown that had appeared.

"Well it's the truth, so she will believe it."

The dancer nodded to her self, giving Quinn an unexpected emotionally charged hug. The ex-captain raised her eyebrow at the Latina behind them, whom just shrugged. Sometimes Brittany just confused both of them.

"Just be careful, Q. I have no idea _what_ you're doing but I don't want to be around when shit hits the fan."

The blonde faintly registered the concern masked behind the rough tone. _I wouldn't either._

/

Quinn exited the washroom, making her way to back to the booth. However something stopped her in her tracks. Rachel was leaning against the counter engrossed by the close-knit pair. Since Quinn had left Brittany had finished her ice cream and was now ensconced in comfortably the Latina's arms. The dancer wore a look of pure joy as Santana whispered something in her ear and started tickling her.

"You know it's rude to stare, Berry."

Quinn walked to the counter. Her choices were rather limited. Talk to Rachel or interrupt her friends. It didn't seem fair to do so since they didn't get many chances to just be themselves in this town. Tonight they were almost couple-like. It was heartening to see. The brunette tried to ignore the blonde, convinced that she was on some degree bipolar.

"They really do love each other, don't they?"

The question slipped out before the brunette could stop it. The blonde sighed.

"What do you think…"

Quinn ran her fingers through her hair, leaning forward beside the other girl. Rachel turned her head.

"Why doesn't Santana just come out and admit it? Brittany would be much happier."

Quinn let out a hollow laugh, shaking her head. It was always easy to question things when you weren't in the thick of it. _Why don't you just stop bullying people? Why don't you just be yourself? _She turns to face the brunette.

"Because its just that easy… Tell me, how do your dads get treated in this town?"

"Touché Quinn"

Rachel retreated into her thoughts a little, fiddling with her fingers. The blonde watches, feeling the need to make Rachel understand.

"Look, they may not be out, but Santana would do anything for Brittany. They _will_ most probably end up together. Brittany, she may be slow but she understands everything, especially Santana. They're as close to real life soul mates as you're going to get… if you believe in that sort of thing."

The brunette takes another long look at the pair before shaking her head. That was something they could both agree on. Whenever anyone really took to time to see they would be in awe of whatever the two girls so obviously share.

"Sometimes I wonder if Finn and I have a love like that."

Rachel looks up to meet a silent Quinn. Before any of them could respond the radio filtered into the sound system. It was weird; the speakers had been broken nearly the whole day.

"_Welcome KT97.8 listeners to our weekly roundup. First up, this time next week Arnold's Hometown Carnival will be coming to Lima Ohio! So get ready boys and girls this is going to be a fun day for everyone. Mothers, fathers, kids and couples come along, you won't want to miss this!"_

Brittany let out an excited squeal, turning to plead with the Latina. Watching the scene play out, Quinn snickers. It was actually a _very_ unfair fight. Santana would give Brittany anything and everything. So it was no surprise when she saw the fiery ex-cheerleader nod in surrender. Both alpha girls melted a little at the pure joy on the dancer's face.

"Q, you better come along. I'm gonna need help with Britts considering how much snicker doodles she's planning to eat."

The blonde rolled her eyes acquiescing. It was Santana and her own special brand of caring. As much trouble as Brittany could be with _that much sugar_ Quinn knew that the Latina was just trying to help. Santana was just trying to make sure the blonde didn't spend all her time alone or _sulking about Finnocence and manhands _as she so eloquently put it. Quinn took a glance at the short singer. The diva had a longing expression as she stared at the radio, as if to will the announcement to replay itself. She remembered the spark of excitement that had appeared in those brown eyes when the news about the carnival first came on. _She's never been before..._

So without even thinking, when Quinn's sitting back at the booth, she takes out her phone to text.

_Finn, forget the movie. Take Berry out to Arnold's Carnival for your first date. Take her on the Ferris wheel and win her something…don't screw up. – Quinn._

/

Now it's starting to get interesting! This was a REALLY hard chapter to write because I still wanted them to be in character or as close as I could, while they transition. Once again, sorry for the lateness and the impromptu hiking trip. XD

If you like, if you don't please leave me a note and review :D


	5. Chapter 5 vs GirlsDate night Sports

**Chapter 5 – vs Girls/Date Night/Sports **

As continued penance for my disappearance I decided to work this update out as soon as possible. Hope you like! At Kim Charlie, we think alike, I had Quinn pegged as a pianist ever since that scene in original songs :D

/

The girls were outside the glee room, fiddling with their costumes. Instead of the risqué outfits from the movie, Mercedes and Tina had designed a suggestive but tasteful retro theme. Brittany, Quinn, Lauren and Tina wore white button up shirts, waistcoats and form fitting black pants. They had been waiting for the last ten minutes for their counterparts to come out of the restroom. Eventually, the tall dancer started to make popping noises causing the ex-head cheerio to groan and wonder what was taking so long.

"Shut it manhands and keep still! I can't do anything with your arms flapping all over the place."

_Asked and answered._ An aggravated Latina sounded through the bathroom doors. Brittany instantly perked up, moving to get closer, only to be stopped by Quinn. The ex-captain had a firm look on her face as she shook her head, holding a finger up as if to say 'wait'. Seconds later an indignant diva replied loudly.

"I resent that Santana! I'll have you know that I've been perfectly motionless throughout this whole ordeal. It's you who doesn't have the requisite skills."

Quinn rolled her eyes, moving back to lean against the wall. All she could do was hope that the hot-blooded Latina didn't' murder their resident and very obstinate star before their number had even started. Unfortunately they needed Berry if they wanted to beat the boys.

"Oh jeez. Just hurry up the two of you!"

Mercedes yelled over her shoulder as she emerged from the bathroom. She wore a strapless short sky blue summer, decorated with shiny bangles and necklaces. The outfit was topped off with a flower-patterned hairband and dark high-heeled pumps. It was the perfect mix of innocent yet suggestive. Tina and Brittany cheered as Mercedes did a twirl in front of the girls. However, the two ungraceful girls stumbling from the restroom quickly interrupted the moment. Rachel tried to right herself in a nonchalant manner, adjusting her clothing and ignoring the looks her way. Santana had an angry look on her face as she took a threatening step towards the diva. Tina and Mercedes moved to intercept the angry Latina, ready to put an end to any brawl.

Behind them, Brittany and Quinn were silent. The tall dancer smiled, taking in the revealing curve of Santana's dress and the sexy scowl she was sporting, whilst Quinn tried to think about anything else but the image right in front of her. _Times tables, US constitution, Ten Commandments, something? _Her throat was dry and unknowingly her gaze lingered on the slight swish of the diva's dress, each movement revealing a little bit more of tanned skin. The blonde felt her eyelids twitch at the scintillating light reflecting of the fake diamond necklace which accentuating the other girl's small but ever present chest. Finally she looked up to meet uncertain smoky brown eyes. _What just happened?_

"Uh, you … it looks good, Berry."

Rachel blushed; she couldn't help but raise her eyebrow in amusement. In her whole McKinley existence nobody had never heard Quinn stutter before. She supposed it was the highest compliment but the brunette also knew she had to be a little bit weary. Quinn was about as predictable as lottery numbers. Meaning, not very.

The blonde, on the other hand, was mentally slapping herself. _She was an honor student and that was all she could say? _Quinn tried to shake the weird feelings off, struggling to take control of her faculties. Soon, her heart rate slowed and her breathing returned to normal. Maybe all those softballs to the head were finally manifesting themselves in brain damage. There was no other explanation because _Berry…sexy…ugh…just no!_

"Alright girls you ready?"

Mr Shue's head stuck out from the rehearsal room. The girls looked to each other once more.

"We're right to go Mr Schue."

/

The girls strutted into the room to cheers from the boys. Rachel struck a pose winking over at the boys, singing the first line. Everyone else provided background vocals. Finn moved uncomfortably in his chair.

The dress is Chanel

The shoes YSL

Rachel moved to back next to Quinn, brushing the blonde incidentally. Between the excitement of the song, neither realized the shudder that ripped through both bodies at the contact.

The bag is Dior

Agent Provocateur

Santana joined in, moving around Brittany. Puck wolf whistled at the sight.

My address today, LA by the way

Above Sunset Strip, the hills all the way

Mercedes sang the last lines of the first verse. Making sure to belt out the last words. Sam moved forward as he smiled enthusiastically, glad his secret girlfriend was having so much fun and looking good whilst doing so. They still hadn't gotten around to telling the rest of the club yet, though judging by Quinn's knowing smirk some people may have already figured it out.

My rings are by Webster

It makes their heads twirl

Rachel sang, pointing to her jewelry. All girls joined her for the next line.

They all say,

"Darling, what did you do for those pearls?"

Brittany, Quinn, Lauren and Tina pulled their counterparts close as they sang the question. Tina and Lauren held each of Mercedes arms. Santana draped her arms around Brittany whilst Quinn's arm was fastened securely around the short brunette's waist. The diva tried to prevent her self from melting into the taller girl. This wasn't healthy. Quinn wasn't safe. But both were breathing heavily. From this proximity Rachel could see all the individual eyelashes on the blonde's face and Quinn could feel wisps of dark hair tickling her face.

What! I am a good girl!

The three girls in dresses exclaimed earning, cheers, whoop and laughs from the guys. Even Mr Schue had to admit he girls were putting a wonderful and light spin on a mature song and their theatricality was impressive. Kurt was bouncing in his seat as his eyes sparkled. Not only did he adore the song but also the costumes were fantastic. Finn just felt unsure. He was so glad that Rachel was having fun and that this was an excellent performance but he felt his fists clench at the appreciative looks of Puck and Artie.

At the instrumental the girls broke out into a dance, with Brittany and Quinn leading with their partners. They moved fluidly and with purpose. Each completely immersed by their counterparts. One pair did so without control, the other diving head first with grins and smiles. Quinn tried to erase the smell of cookies, strawberry and cinnamon from her mind, succeeding for only a moment until the small brunette found herself in the ex-cheerleader's arms again.

BH I adore, Rodeo l'amour

Breakfast Polo Lounge then poolside for sure

Santana started up again.

The Chateau for cocktails

The Courtyard at nine

Dan Tana's for dinner

The hell is divine

Mercedes sang, turning first to Tina and then Lauren.

You know I have found the words goin' round

Rachel sang her blonde partner, placing a hand on Quinn's shoulder. The blonde tensed momentarily before relaxing, her senses attuning to that area. She tried to stop the shiver that threatened to rip through her body.

They all say my feet never do touch the ground

Santana joined in dragging Brittany closer by the collar.

What?

Mercedes exclaimed, leaning into Lauren and Tina.

All the girls sang walking slowly up to the boys, laying a hand on each of their chests.

I am a good girl!

I am a good girl

"Wow. That… was fantastic, girls. I could hear the different contexts in your intonation. Boy's you could probably learn something or two from their performance. Its great to sing well but it is better when you can step into a character. Ok that's it for today. Next time we discuss the set list for sectionals. So brainstorm!"

/

Rachel reached for her sheet music. Most of the others had already left; only Quinn remained putting away the piano. The blonde did so with such care, such respect, the diva wonders just how long the instrument had been a part of the other girl's life. However before she could, she turned to find a nervous Finn. The footballer was staring at his shoes before mustering up the courage to look the short singer in the eye. From her position the ex head cheerio looked up with curiosity, registering the third presence in the room, and the suffocating edginess that had descended.

"Look Rachel I know we already had this discussion last year. But don't you think your costume was a bit much. I mean Puck and Artie couldn't keep their eyes off you."

Quinn's eyebrows reached her headline. _They had this conversation before? _The blonde scoffed at the footballer's insecurities. It was hardly fair that he was allowed to be the school stud footballer and Berry wasn't able to get out of those awful reindeer sweaters. The happy aura that had radiated of the brunette had all but deflated. For some inexplicable reason, that annoyed her. Quinn packed the remainder of her gear away making sure to swing her duffel solidly against Finn's head on her way out.

"Ow! Quinn wha – "

The blonde gave the footballer a hard admonishing look silencing any further comments, walking out the door. Rachel looked bewildered whilst Finn paused to think, wondering what he had done to anger the girl. It was only when the turned around that he really saw Rachel's watery eyes and trying-to-be brave smile. Finn paled, berating him self for making the same mistakes as he kneeled down in front of the brunette. _Why couldn't he see what Quinn knew so easily?_

"Oh man Rachel I am so sorry. I didn't realize… Look your performance was great and you look beautiful. I guess I just get a little insecure when other guys stare at you like that. Its not your fault and I'll work on it ok?"

Rachel smiled at the unexpected apology. She had expected a complete rehash of last year that would've once again left her in tears. Looking at Finn's contrite face she felt affection for the footballer burying her head in his chest. Things really were different this time...

/

"Alright you ingrates. That's it for today. You better be ready for tomorrow night's game. That means no wild parties; no _drinking_ and no getting yourself _pregnant_ that would otherwise exaggerate your already lacking skills."

Brittany, Santana and Quinn shook their heads tiredly, knowing that more than half the coach's comments were aimed at them. It seemed she _still_ hadn't gotten over the whole losing the 7th consecutive national cheerleading championships. The other half of the team was simply incredulous as they forced themselves to listen, for fear of more suicides. The main difference between them was that, the trio understood that there was method two the older woman's insanity. They knew how to win and it came with a cost, namely one Sue Sylvester. The tracksuit fitted blonde took one final glance at her team before bringing the megaphone to her mouth.

"As ambassadors of the Sue Sylvester party you _will not_ lose. The word 'failure' doesn't even exist in my dictionary! Now go, out of my sight. I get eyesores just looking at you."

Everyone scuttled off in excitement. Most had plans one way or another and Arnold's Carnival had just arrived in town. The trio lifted themselves slowly, stretching out the kinks of their abused bodies. The Latina clapped her ex-captain as she surged ahead.

"Q, Britts and I will meet you there. I've got a few things to take care of first. Call, if you need us."

Quinn nodded waving the other girls away. _Right. _Tonight was date night. Rachel and Finn. Brittany and Santana _kind of, _when they finally decided to place a label on it_._ The ex-head cheerleader had a self-deprecating smile as she shook her head, getting into her car. She sighed.

_Because she had always dreamt of being the third wheel..._

/

Sparkling lights, loud cheering and smell of candy in the air, Quinn tucked her windbreaker tighter as she wondered around the carnival campgrounds. The workers had done a exquisite job. It really was beautiful, bringing back a sense of innocence that the blonde had thought she had long since lost. She took some pictures on her phone as she made stops along all the booths and rides. _Solo wasn't so bad…_

However her phone vibrated, interrupting her daydream and signaling a text message.

"Q! Brits and I just got here. Meet us at the Ferris wheel – Santana"

Quinn sighed taking one last gander at the smiling families and coupled before making her way to the center of the carnival. Brittany and Santana were already standing there waiting. The tall dancer was happily eating an ice cream on one hand and a deep-fired mars bar on the other, the firsts of many Quinn guessed. Brittany had such a sweet tooth. On the other hand the Latina looked impatient as she scoured the surroundings, her eyes narrowing as they finally landed on the ex-captain. Rest assured, the blonde's slow ambling did not amuse her.

"What took so long Q! You're not in a stroller yet. Now wait here with Britts while I go get the tickets."

Santana walked off. Quinn couldn't help but smirk as she watched Brittany's eyes follow the fiery girl. Some things would never change and _that _was extremely comforting.

"So did you guys have a fun time getting here Brittany?"

The tall dancer's expression visibly lit up as she began to rock on the balls of her feet.

"San took me to dinner at the aquarium and she told me she would get me something today!"

"Well make sure you get Santana to win you whatever you want. There are stuffed ducks and cats that look like Lord Tubbington everywhere."

"Really?"

Brittany asked excitedly. Quinn winked, smirking the thought. She knew she would pay for it later but the concept of an impatient Santana with those ridiculously annoying games was just too hard to resist. Let's just call it revenge for the mono incident. Before she could comment anymore she was stopped by the presence of an edgy Latina thrusting tickets her way.

"Here Q, that's your ticket. You, Britts and I can go in one carriage. Just make sure we're nowhere near Finnocence and manhands. As if we don't hear enough of her voice at school..."

Taken aback Quinn looked over the Latina's shoulders. Sure enough Finn and Rachel were getting into the ride. To be honest, the blonde had hoped to avoid the couple. The carnival was here for 3 weeks, what were the chances they would all be here on the _same day_. The universe had a _hilarious_ sense of humor. Quinn shook her head.

"I'm going to stay down here, Santana. You and Brittany go. I'll take some pictures of the two of you."

The Latina paused for a second, before shrugging, moving the dancer towards the ride. Quinn brushed off Santana's cautious look, taking a seat next to the operator. He was an old man with a scraggly white beard and kind eyes. He moved to the side a little more to give the ex-cheerleader more room, before finally starting the ride. It was slower than normal, allowing each carriage to get the best view.

Quinn snapped a few candids of her friends on her phone, smiling at the outcome. The girls were wrapped around each other as they looked out towards the view. Both had smiling faces, even Santana was completely relaxed, leaning closer into the dancer.

"Those your friends?"

A voice came from her left. The operator smiled. Quinn read his nametag, Timothy, and nodded.

"Yeah."

"Quite the pair."

Timothy winked, making sure to stop the ride as their carriage reached the top.

"That they are."

Quinn replied, smiling in thanks. She continued to take some more pictures before she moved the viewfinder to get another angle. Her attention caught the corner of the frame. There. Rachel was sitting clinging to Finn, all smiles and delight. Finn didn't look too comfortable as the carriage swung a little but automatically relaxed when the small singer whispered something in his ear. Quinn smiled to her self as a rush of pride flowed through her. It wasn't much but she was making a difference for someone even if it was Rachel Berry out of all the freaking people. The blonde captured a few more images.

Timothy looked at the girl sitting beside him, noting the look of concentration that overtook her features. He didn't know what to make of her. She was completely focused on her task of taking pictures. She had very few words for a girl her age, yet he knows she is wise beyond her years. He sees a soul cracked by heartbreak, distrust, betrayal and disappointment, barely held together by makeshift patching. He follows her gaze to another couple. This time, there was a large boy with his arms wrapped around a significantly smaller girl. It was then that he saw the beginnings of healing in the blonde's eyes concealed by a bittersweet expression and a protective glint.

"They your friends as well?"

Quinn paused, looking over at the old man. _How did one answer a question like that? _She and Finn had been really close friends before they started dating. She didn't feel any romantic notions towards him anymore. But after the whole baby and Sam debacle, she had to wonder if friends were the right word. All she knew was that she wanted him to be happy. Rachel Berry, on the other hand, just didn't fit any category, any feelings. On a good day they were in sync, wordlessly understanding each other. On their bad days, everyone was reluctant to approach ether girls. _Was that friendship?_

"It's complicated."

Timothy nodded. Complicated, he could understand that.

"Just remember, love doesn't let us down…"

The old man smiled gently as he pulled the ride to a stop, standing up to help the patrons out. Quinn watched pensively, wondering what he meant or rather why he said it.

"Q, you gots some explaining to do! Why is Brittany talking about winning stuffed ducks and shit for the rest of the night?"

A loud voice emerged behind her. Santana had her arms on her hips with an innocent and gleeful looking Brittany behind her. Quinn sniggered.

"I might've told Brittany that there were a couple of booths that were offering stuffed toys as prizes."

Santana groaned placing her palm against her forehead. _Great. Just great. _Brittany tugged insistently towards the nearest booth. The Latina let herself be moved as she pointed to her eyes and then at Quinn.

"Just you wait. I'll get you for this Q. Turnaround is fair play."

The ex-captain smirked, waving to the girls. They needed some alone time anyways. Quinn loved them, she really did but it was unreasonable for them to babysit her on what should be a perfect date night. The blonde takes a seat on a bale of hay and goes through the images she took that night. Some had turned out very well. She had managed to catch the happiness of a lot of faces. She opens the latest set. It's only towards the end that she realizes that the images had started focusing on the expressions of short brunette.

_What the?_

/

"C'mon Finn, just relax you can do it."

The footballer takes a couple of deep breaths, trying to shake some tenseness from his frame. He could do this, it was just aim and shoot right? The couple stood in front of a milk bottle game booth. Rachel's eyes her glittering as she held her breath. She didn't know what had possessed Finn but she had jumped with joy when he suggested the carnival for their first date. She had never been before. In the past her fathers had been too busy and there had been a brief period where residents of Lima was very against seeing the unconventional Berry family out in public. But, today? It was more than she could ever hope for. Finn had taken her out on a picnic at the local park with some homemade vegan food. It didn't come with the best presentation or even the correct taste but Rachel warmed with the effort and thought. It was very sweet. The night was further improved by that experience on the Ferris wheel. From the top she swore she could see all the houses in Lima. She felt taller than she had ever been. When Finn had kissed her she felt special, loved, comfortable. It wasn't by any means fiery, electrifying or toe curling but it was enough. Tonight was more than she had ever had before. For all she knew, _this_ could be what everyone _hoped for_. For a moment she hears Quinn's voice in her head...

_If you keep searching for that happy ending, you're never going to get it right._

Rachel clasped her hand as she watched Finn release the ball. They had been at this game for the last ten minutes. Ever since Rachel expressed a desire for the giant teddy with the glittering microphone, instantly falling in love with the stuffed creature. Neither noticed the curious gaze of the blonde a few booths back. The first ball bounced off the rim, the second missed completely redirecting back at Rachel. The brunette sidesteps quickly to evade the projectile. Finn looks apologetically at the diva, before turning to make one last pitch. It is successful and knocks one milk bottle down. However, it is only enough to win a small toy. Rachel pushes back the slight disappointment wandering over to hug the footballer's arm, loving that he tried so hard. She proudly picks a small stuffed squirrel and holds it to her chest, placing a chaste kiss on Finn's cheek. The footballer looks gratefully towards the diva, as they walked away from the booth. _What did he do to deserve her?_

Intrigued Quinn moved curiously to the recently vacated booth.

"Hey there girly. Want to try? If you can knock all three bottles down with three shots you can win the big teddy over there. How about it?"

The blonde looks up at the carnie, tilting her head at the game behind him. What the heck, all she had was time until Brittany and Santana found her again. Quinn hands over a ten-dollar bill, taking the three balls from the vendor. The blonde purses her lips throwing the first ball up and down in the air. Eventually she just rolls her eyes and makes a pitch, letting her arm follow through. _Coach Sylvester would be so very proud. _

Ding! Ding! Ding! The small bell rings as the vendor claps her over the shoulder in congratulations. Quinn takes a look; all three bottles were knocked down in one shot. _Finn had trouble with this? _Before she could even contemplate it further a large teddy was dropped into her arms. The blonde buckled a bit in surprise. The thing was huge! At the very least, it had to be half her size. It had big brown eyes and a studded microphone that stood out under the twinkling carnival lights. _It reminded her of someone…_ She looked up to where she last saw the annoying couple. Finn was swinging a laughing Rachel around as they entertained a few children waiting alone by the rides. The blonde smiles softly gripping her prize tighter in an effort to turn away, only to meet an amused Santana.

"You trying to upstage me, Q?"

The Latina had her arms full with stuffed ducks, teddies, frogs and shiny wants and figures. Brittany had a large shark plushie under her left arm and a giant rainbow lollypop in her right. Quinn rolled her eyes when Santana's eyes immediately followed the tongue that stuck out to eat the treat. She was as subtle as a sledgehammer.

"I don't think that's possible. Did you raid every game booth or something?"

The blonde questions with smile when the Latina temporarily drops one of her cargo. Santana just looks up with a smirk.

"Nah I just gots mad skills. Plus Britts _really really wanted all these. _Not like she doesn't have enough at home though."

Both alpha girls shook their head amusedly. Brittany had the largest collection of stuffed toys in the Lima history, stemming from everyone's lacking ability to say no to the blonde; Santana above all others. It said something when the dancer needed a separate room for them.

"Guys ready to go?"

Quinn asks, to which the other two girls nod. When the ex-captain is trying her best to shove the giant teddy into her car she can't help but look up one more time. Rachel was swaying in the footballers arms in the dance ring. Almost immediately, she drops her head, getting into the car.

A thoughtful expression emerges on the Brittany's face as she watches her friend sadly.

/

"C'mon Q. Run those stretch-marks home!"

Sue Sylvester yelled through the megaphone, annoyed that she could barely hear herself over the screaming for the football team. Softball and football games were the only two sports held on the same day. After all, the Lima girls' softball team had been dead in the water for the last decade or so. So why waste money and open the field for two days when nobody cared? The older woman sneered at Principal Figgins and his supposed cost saving actions. She had never experienced such disrespect! The field was split so that the footballers played in the main oval whilst the girls played on an offset.

In the stands was the rest of glee club cheering on their significant other in the football team. Blaine and Kurt were simply there to provide extra support. Throughout the first half, Rachel couldn't help but let her attention be drawn to the game on the side, receiving numerous prods by Kurt every time she strayed a little too long. Apparently Finn had been pointing to her every time the team scored. It was a very sweet gesture and it wasn't anything against the boys but Rachel actually understood the rules of softball, being one of her Dad's favourite pastimes, whereas she was still confused by most of the going ons in a football game. She found her self cringing at every miss and jumping up at every safe run, confusing those around her. Surprisingly, the McKinley girl's were actually doing better than they had in years, ahead by 10 points. The brunette found her attention piqued ever since Quinn had stepped up to the plate. Santana was waiting on the third base whilst Brittany was on second. The blonde swung. One had to admire her athleticism in the swing, the ball going all the way to the end of the outfield. The concentration and focus affected Rachel from the stands. Unknowingly the diva held her breath watching the blur of blonde round the third base. _She was so close to home!_

"Rachel! Rachel! Look Finn just scored."

Kurt tugged insistently, grinning as the footballer made his way to the stands to give Rachel a hug. The diva smiled shyly as she was encased his large arms, hearing the aww's and cheers around her. From the field Quinn tilted her head, registering the noise, after making the home run. It couldn't have been for them, nobody cared about softball. Then she saw the couple. It was weird she thought she had felt the diva watching her moments ago. The blonde nodded to the footballer as he lifted the diva slightly of her feet. _Finn was doing good…_

Eventually he had to let go as Coach Beiste's voice called him back. Rachel leaned in to peck the boy on the lips before he turned around. Sitting down, the diva found her eyes going to the softball game once more. She had missed it, but from the glowing faces of Santana and Brittany she could guess the result. A surge of happiness appeared as she watched the mini-celebration. As happy as the trio was in glee it was good to see them in their original element, sports.

"Hey Rachel are you alright. You seem distracted all night."

Blain asked concernedly.

"I'm fine. Thank you Blaine, don't worry about it. I think I'm going to get some refreshments, do you want anything?"

Mercedes and Lauren passed along their orders as the brunette descended from the benches to the refreshment stands.

/

Rachel stood by, waiting for her order as she turned around. The line was right in front of the softball game. She could hear everything as she leaned against the pole.

"Alright girls don't get cocky. I don't want to see anybody lowering their guard for a second just because we're going to beat the pants off this other team."

Coach Sylvester yelled loudly, ignoring the angry glares of the other team. There was no room for diplomacy in sports. She was here to win. She didn't see it coming when a fastball was pegged at her captain. _Bang. _Rachel felt her whole body lurch forward in concern as Quinn staggered from the force of the blow. In a rage, Santana sprung up, throwing herself at the stocky built girl who had thrown the pitch, yelling expletives in Spanish. Brittany held Quinn up trying to assess the damage, as even she looked angrily at the direction the other team. The rival coach and the umpire simply looked bewildered as they watched players from both sides join the scuffle to protect their teammate.

Sue felt her fury rise as she moves to break up the fight. She had a good mind to let Santana get in a few more shots but judging from the already bloody nose of the other girl, it probably want prudent. After pushing all the girls apart the older woman stalks up to the other coach yelling straight into his face with a megaphone. The man has the sense to back away and cower at her expression.

"That is a lawsuit, Mister! You better bet that I will sue your ass. By the time I'm done with you won't even have the shirt off your back…Actually no, I'll leave you your shirt, nobody wants to be exposed to the torture of seeing you naked."

"I'm sure we can wor –"

"No. Shut it! Now we're going to finish this game and then you are going to teach your kids how to follow rules or so help me I will make sure none of you ever play any sport again. Note I use the term kids loosely. What you have on your hands is a set of future criminals!"

Coach Sylvester fires back. Santana snarls at some girls from the other team only to be help back by Brittany. A look of concern crosses the Latina's face before it is quickly shelved away as she moves closer to talk to Quinn.

"Dammit Q, a few more hits and you're gonna have nothing but matchsticks for brains."

Quinn rolls her eyes weakly, trying to reach the bump on her head. Coach Sylvester walks up to the group surrounding the injured girl.

"Move people. Get your useless butts on the field and win this."

Santana and Brittany looked a bit unsure but Quinn waves them away. Reluctantly the girls leave, but not before Brittany manages to whisper in the shorter blonde's ear.

"Don't worry Quinn, I'm sure you have more than matchsticks in your brain. You probably have loads of stuff since you're so smart."

The ex-captain chuckled, never more thankful for the dancer's friendship than that moment. If laughter was the best medicine then Brittany was the perfect packaging for it. Quinn tries to watch as her teammates got back on the field.

The tension on the field is palpable as several McKinley girls geared up for some payback. It was true that at one time Quinn might have tortured every single one of them. But as it was, they were a team and the blonde was undoubtedly their leader. During long practices they found an unexpected and unspoken loyalty to the ex-head cheerio, who taught and defended them against the often-irate coach. Sue looked around before she landed on the small brunette staring a few meters away.

"You! Midget. Come. Help stretch marks, over here, icepacks are to your left."

Quinn's head snapped up in disbelief to meet the brunette, although she immediately regretted it. Pain stabbed the back of her head. Still she wonders, just _how long had Berry been standing there?_

/

"Ugh, take it easy Berry. I've already been hit in the head."

A loud groan escaped from the blonde, as Rachel tried to push the icepack against the already swollen bump. The brunette felt her heart clench in concern as Quinn took shallow and sharp breaths, trying to stop the world from spinning. With a very long-winded argument followed by a session of arm-twisting, the brunette had finally managed to convince the blonde lay her head down on her lap, so she could access the wound. Quinn kept her yes focused on the game, trying to push away the feeling of soft nimble fingers brushing back her hair and the warm hand that held the icepack and her head still. Warmth permeated the thin softball uniform. Once again the smell of cookies, strawberries and cinnamon wafted to her nose. _Was Berry always baking?_

"I'm sorry Quinn. If you would stop wriggling…"

Quinn rolled her eyes, trying to brace herself on her elbows. She hated being incapacitated. In fact, she hadn't even let her own mother help when she contracted mono. Now for the second time this year Berry out of all people was putting ointment on her injury. For the life of her she didn't know why she was letting it happen. It wasn't because she felt sheltered. It wasn't because her muscles had turned to jelly under the other girl's ministrations. It _certainly_ wasn't because she enjoyed it... It _couldn't be._

"Quinn, you know I can feel you rolling your eyes."

"It's not a secret, Berry."

The blonde mumbled embarrassedly. She could feel the tips of her ears reddening and she wondered if it was obvious to anyone else. Rachel leaned back, trying to make the other girl more comfortable.

"You guys are actually quite good. It appears Coach Sylvester may have some talent after all."

"Just don't let her ever hear you say that, Berry."

Quinn grunted, before opening one eye to look at the diva.

"Just how long were you watching us anyway? Shouldn't you be cheering Finn's football game?"

This time it was Rachel's turn to blush as she looked down at the blonde.

"…Softball is apparently more interesting and easier to understand then football."

Quinn quirked an eyebrow, only for it to turn into a grimace as the pain returned. Shrugging, she guessed she could understand, watching a bunch of sweaty boys throw around a pigskin ball. Yes, it must be _very_ intellectually stimulating. However the blonde had to admit it was much more attractive pastime when your boyfriend was the star, which Finn was. So once again, she wondered why Rachel was here. Both had a multitude of thoughts running through their heads. For a while, they watched the softball game in silence. McKinley was killing the other team. Each girl was playing faster, harder and stronger than before. Santana had every other person scared as she practiced her swing before she stepped out on the batting mount. The angry glint in her eyes accentuated by the football field lights. The ex-captain sighed, decidedly even feeling a bit sorry for the other team. This wasn't going to end well for them.

"So Berry, how was your date?"

The question slid out, interrupting the silence that had settled.

"How did you know I had a date yesterday?"

Rachel asked perplexed, she swore she didn't tell anyone. This year she was going to try and tone down a little. She found that, when that happened, people enjoyed talking to her more. According to Mercedes, it moved her from barely tolerable to actually fun to be around. Not that that seemed to faze the blonde in front of her. Quinn and her interactions were bizarre either way.

"Saw you. Santana and Brittany dragged me yesterday."

Quinn replied offhandedly.

"It was good. Finn packed us a picnic. He isn't the world's greatest cook but it was the thought that counted. As you know we went to the carnival got on the Ferris wheel and played a couple of games. He didn't win much but it was still fun. It was a fairytale…" _almost_

The brunette finished the last sentence staring solidly at Quinn, who simply looked back. Both girls didn't know what they were looking for, but they didn't get any more time to find out before the shadow of one Coach Sylvester descended on them.

"Q! Get your lazy self, moving. You're up for the final batting."

Rachel looked alarmed for a moment unconsciously bringing the injured girl closer to her body. Santana shook her head in exasperation as Quinn started to get up. She would rather stomach the blonde with the dwarf rather than collapsed out on field. The short singer looks on concernedly as the blonde continued to drag her self to the batters position, waving off all of the diva's warnings. The muscles in her thighs and shoulder stood out clenched in exertion. A bead of sweat slides down the ex-cheerleader's face. Sue Sylvester reaches for the megaphone.

"Remember, pain is temporary, a championship title is forever!"

Quinn shakes her head as she mutters curses under her breath. Just before the pitch is thrown, green eyes connect with brown...

… _It's safe… McKinley High wins for the first time in the last 12 years…_

/

Heehee. Put your hands up if you liked that chapter because I had fun writing it. XD Tell me your thoughts and review! I will take any criticism or ideas you have. That said I love Sue Sylvester and the trio so much, they are fun to write.


	6. Chapter 6 Obvious

**Chapter 6 – Obvious **

Yeppers I'm back. :D I am trying to make Finn seem like a very DUMB but nevertheless a good guy. I guess I don't see him as a complete jerk, makes it all too easy don't ya think. **;) **Plus I feel sorry for him, he tries so darn hard he's just not Rachel's perfect other XD

/

Change, it was sometimes obvious, sometimes subtle, always signaling something new. The next day the trio walked a little taller, their strides were a little stronger. Almost without any active control, people felt their feet moving to clear the path. Eyes glued on the three girls. A few congratulations and praises filtered through by those brave enough to speak. There was a shift in the McKinley High hierarchy once more…

Quinn made her way to her locker ignoring the glances and slight looks of fear. It felt strange to be back in this position, the one of power when internally she wasn't even close to being that girl; the HBIC. A glaring redhead slithered next to the ex-captain. Taking a breath the blonde remained focused on her task of getting her books. If anything the lack of acknowledgement just seemed in incense the girl in the cheerleading uniform even more. Eventually, Quinn turned around tiredly.

"Kelsey, don't you ever get tired of this? …This, the uniform, the popularity, it's not everything you know."

It had taken a while but the blonde had finally grasped that lesson after nationals. However she also knew her understanding changed very little. High school hierarchy might as well have been set in stone, going on for as long as anyone could remember. All most could hope for was a benevolent leader, queen bee, whatever. All Quinn was searching for was some evidence of the girl she had met a while ago, the almost sweet girl that nearly walked out before her tryouts due to her nerves. Looking into Kelsey's eyes, she didn't find her. Instead she watched as the redhead's expression twisted into rage, her eyes swirling with something sinister. The new head cheerio stepped up towards the blonde, fists clenched.

"Your softball win changes nothing! Glee kids are still on the bottom. _Cheerleaders _and _footballers_ are the leaders of this school. That's the way it's supposed to be! It's over for you three, get that through your heads."

Quinn rolled her eyes, clicking her locker shut. _So much for reason… _A mask descends and the blonde's posture straightens. Her expression turns hard. Kelsey can't help but stiffen before she remembers her plan and an eerie calm washes over.

"You know what? Do what you want. Enjoy glee club while it lasts. Because soon, even you losers will have nowhere to go."

With that the girl struts away. Quinn tilts her head, mulling the words over in her head. _What?_ Santana moves closer from her protective position beside the blonde, getting ready to follow the redhead. Quinn hand stops her but its Brittany's worried expression pulls her back. The frustrated Latina ruffles her own hair roughly.

"That stick is just permanently shoved up her ass, isn't it? She needs a smack down, Q. She needs to learn..."

"Relax Santana, you already have two strikes on your transcript. She'll get it… sooner or later."

Shaking her head, Quinn eyes drift the direction the redhead disappeared in.

_Soon even you losers will have nowhere to go._

Her apprehensions only grows…

/

"Hey, you wanted to see me?"

An inquisitive Mr Schue asks as he opens the doors to the principal's office. He never liked this room. Every time he was summoned it always had teemed with negative news, budget cuts, one of his kids caught misbehaving or Sue had come up with some new inane scheme to get rid of the glee club. The principal's office was not a place you wanted to be. No, some things never changed, not even when you become an adult.

"William, come in. There is someone I'd like to you to meet! This is Mary Edwards the head of the parent-teacher association (PTA)."

In the other seat was a tall strong auburn-haired woman in what looked like a crisp designer suit. She had features that might've have been classed as pretty once upon a time, now strained by wear and smothered by make-up. However the most disconcerting part of her appearance was the eyes. They were hard, cold and sharp, offering no room for compromise. Mr Schue faltered just by the pure judgmental nature of the woman's onceover, obviously not impressed.

"Uh, hello, its nice to meet you. You must be Kelsey's mother. I teach your daughter junior Spanish."

No response. Mary simply stared back. Mr Schue shifted in his seat turning to face Principal Figgins instead. The Indian looked just as uncomfortable, equal parts nervous and hopeful as his eyes flickered between the two. He just wanted this to be over as soon as possible.

"Mrs Edwards is here to do an analysis of all the extra-curricular clubs at our school to make sure they are student friendly. That there aren't any inappropriate happenings that could prove detrimental to McKinley."

"But we just went through an audit last year! Don't you think Glee Club has been through enough?"

Furious, Mr Schue stood up, annoyed at the lack of response or support from the school. Last year, New Directions had managed to make it to Nationals. Didn't that mean anything? The kids were happy, they believed in themselves and they shouldn't have to constantly defend their safe place, their sanctuary from board members and policy makers. Before he could say so, he was interrupted by the stern glare of the redhead in front of him.

"Well, you see what Principal Figgins didn't make clear is that this _is_ compulsory. All clubs are undergoing assessment _including_ cheerios and softball. I couldn't care less about what your club has had to go through in the past. If the program is good for the kids, then it'll stay…I hope you don't have anything to hide."

Mary prodded his arm for emphasis before walking out of the room. Incredulous, Mr Schue raised his arms in question at the principal, whom suddenly seamed very interested on paperwork. Eventually, the very jittery man responded.

"Just let her sit in on the rehearsals. I'm sure glee club will be fine William."

The music teacher looked wearily in the direction that Mary Edwards walked off in.

_Yeah, I hope so..._

/

"Ok guys, listen up! This is Mrs Edwards, she the head of the Parent Teacher Association. She here to do an evaluation on all the clubs in the school, about things like whether they teach good values of not... Sh –"

Mr Schue didn't get to finish. His view of his students suddenly blocked completely by the tall redhead who now stood at the head of the class.

"I'll be sitting in your …what do you call it? _Jam sessions_?"

Mary scrunched up her nose distastefully at the words as she scanned the scraggly group. She saw disinterest, laziness and vulgarity; her daughter had been right, there was a lot to worry about schools today.

"…I'll make my recommendation to Principal Figgins by the end of the week. Just do what you normally do."

A series of groans flooded the room. _Not again._ Brittany looked confused. Rachel, Santana and Puck were furious. Everyone was feeling something. The only person that caught Mr Schue's attention was the silent blonde at the front. Quinn wore a thoughtful frown.

"Mrs Edwards…I remember you. You're Kelsey's mom, aren't you?"

Her voice caught everyone's attention. Santana's eyes widened. Silence fell on New Directions as they all realized the gravity of the situation. On instinct Rachel looked worriedly towards the ex-captain, hoping for some kind of clarification, strength..._assurance._ The brunette wonders when she had become so dependent on the blonde for her peace of mind. But Quinn didn't once break her gaze with the hard woman. The ex-cheerleader's arms were crossed, giving nothing away.

"Yes, I am. And you're Quinn Fabray. You _used _to be the cheerios captain, didn't you?"

It was clear that Mary already knew the answer. Quinn smiled bitterly, so _this_ was what Kelsey had been alluding to this morning. Glancing at the older woman in front of her, she knew how this was going to turn out. Mrs Edwards was going to cut the program and Mr Schue wouldn't be able to do anything about it. He wasn't even close to being in her league. Mary Edwards had a practiced cruelty about her, one that came with experience. It was the same air that Quinn carried herself, except she had managed to let go of her hate, her anger. Without thinking, the blonde turns her head slightly, only to be faced with Rachel's supportive gaze… A nod and a sense of acceptance are intuitively shared. Tension drains a little from her expression.

"…I was…"

/

For the most part, Mary Edwards remained silent. Moving only to scribble something down or to cringe with disgust. New Directions avoided any sort of interaction, any sort of contact with the woman and she returned the favor. However avoidance wasn't ignorance. And ignorance was never bliss. Every single member of the glee club was aware of the scrutiny and their chances of surviving. It wasn't high. So why bother? If this were their last Glee rehearsal they wouldn't change a thing. They wouldn't deviate. They wouldn't hide who they were.

So much to the displeasure of their observer, Puck sang _all_ the Jewish songs he knew, Kurt flaunted his sparkly sequin lined designs for Sectionals and Lauren very loudly ate Twinkies and commented on the sexiness of her man. Tina played with her dark make-up; Artie practiced a few dance tricks in his wheelchair and Santana pulled Brittany into her arms, using her fractured grammar, indecent slang and sarcastic quips to the best of her ability. Rachel was a diva and Quinn was slightly antagonistic. They were… a unit. And Mr Schue was never more proud.

By the last song of the day, Mary was gripping her golden cross necklace so strongly that Mr Schue was sure that it would leave an indentation. Every muscle tensed as she sprung up from her seat. The older woman eyed each of the students with revulsion. Her mouth opened and closed as if she couldn't even voice her thoughts, they were so distressing. The members of New Directions watch curiously as she gathered herself together, bony hands whitened by her grip on the notepad.

"This…I don't even know what to say. Rest assured you can say goodbye to _glee club!_ What you've got here is nothing short of a cesspool for criminal behaviour, gluttony and perversion._"_

Mr Schue attempts to stand up in defense only to be shoved back down as the woman stalks her way to a bored looking Puckerman. The mohawked boy doesn't give her the time of day, randomly strumming his guitar. Quinn and Rachel smile softly at the sight.

"For example, you, Mr Puckerman have had 76 detentions! You've been in juvenile detention for theft and your grades are barely passable. You've had allegations of cheating _and_ you've been described as the school gigolo. No doubt forcing your lame charms on girls like my daughter…"

At that the strumming stops. The well-muscled boy stands up leaning forward towards the rigid seething redhead.

"Are you kidding? Your _girl_ is the one person I would do _even_ if you paid me."

Shaking his head, Puck pretends to snap forward causing Mary to jump back in alarm. The members of New Directions chuckle and smirk at the truth in the footballer's statement. It was true, they might have been outcasts, misfits, _but_ they were also better than most of the other kids that ran through the school. Glee club couldn't be taken down that easily. _You want to be a loser like me…_

Stunned, Mary switches her ire towards the blonde who had been quiet throughout the whole session, simply analyzing her with those piercing green eyes. Quinn Fabray _was not_ better than her.

"My Kelsey is a good girl. Unlike you, who got pregnant at 16? My daughter tells me you've made quite the rounds: Puck, Finn, Sam and who else? Well at least you gave up the child for adoption, it's the one thing you've done right. Beth, is it? Well, I sincerely hope she doesn't grow up to be a promiscuous sinner like her mother."

Mary is breathing hard by the time she finishes her tirade. A few gasps come from Mercedes and Kurt. And Finn and Sam are holding Puck back, _barely._ Brittany is doing the same for Santana who had managed to get within nearly an inch of the redhead. Quinn is perfectly still her eyes hard, belying nothing. The emotional armor in place, cutting off all avenues to _feeling_. Only the subtle clench of the jaw could be caught and _only if_ you were Rachel Berry. The brunette felt a warm tear slide down her face as rage built in her system. Rachel Barbra Berry had never hated anyone before. It wasn't in her nature. For the first time, she hated the woman in front of her today. The brunette _could tell_ that with every word Mrs Edwards was shattering and destroying pieces of the Quinn she _knew_. The person that protected everyone, _including her_. She could feel it as deep in her soul. The short singer couldn't sit and watch, and you _couldn't_ ask her to...you wouldn't...

"That's not fair!"

Rachel's clear voice cut across the room. For a second everyone paused, hit by the raw anger and force behind the statement. It didn't surprise them as much that it was the diva defending the blonde. If everyone was being honest, subconsciously they knew it was going to end this way. Rachel Berry was the chink in the blonde's armor, the only one that could really affect Quinn's foundations. To make her feel that she was _more or less_ than she was. The ex-captain's holds the diva's gaze. She couldn't let her self be warmed by the strength and care behind those browns. She couldn't break. In a husky voice, the words escape. Santana and Brittany flinch at the tone. Their friend was distancing herself, pulling away.

"Berry…it's ok."

Fuming at the blonde's calmness Mary's voice lashes out, aimed at the diva.

"Sit down! You will speak when spoken to!"

Finn jumps up, indignant.

"Hey, you can't talk to her like that!"

But all their voices are ignored, blurred into the distance as Rachel drops to her knees in front of the blonde. Small tan hands reach out to grip white pale ones, squeezing comfortingly. Quinn takes a deep breath staring at the points of contact. _They really weren't that manly at all..._was one of the only thoughts that filtered through. Slowly, Rachel lifts one hand to behind the ex-cheerleaders neck, forcing her to make eye contact. Neither girl's register the intimacy of the position.

"It's not ok, Quinn. You don't deserve this."

Looking into those expressive browns, the blonde wants to cry…but she doesn't. She _can't_. _What did that say about her?_ Instead she stands up, squares her shoulders, and softly shrugs the short singer away. It was the only gentleness that was exhibited, as Quinn transformed into someone worse than the HBIC, just for a second.

"Get out. You've said what you wanted to say. Do you feel better now? Just leave us alone. You're not wanted here or anywhere else in this school. Leave. Go. NOW!"

Mary would never admit it but her bottom lip quivered. She takes one last look at the frozen dumbfounded music teacher sitting by the side.

"I can't believe you have such filth in this school."

After Mrs Edwards walks out there is a silence. Quinn grabs her duffel bag.

"Mr Schue… I think I will be skipping the rest today's session."

The words 'go ahead' are barely heard as the blonde walks out. Rachel can do nothing but look sadly at the now empty seat in front of her.

/

Somehow between school and the drive home tears are streaming down, marring the blonde's pale face. When she pulls into her driveway, the rearview mirror shows her just how bloodshot her eyes are. For a moment, Quinn loses it. She's punching, pushing, slapping against every available space of the car's driving wheel and dashboard. Her knuckles are bleeding and it's a welcome respite, to the constant fluctuation between feeling _everything_ and feeling _nothing_, nothing at all.

When the air inside the metal transporter becomes suffocating she finally moves into her house, ignoring her mother's worried calls. She knows what she looks like. She knows she's mess, crying and slightly bloody as she runs up the stairs to her room. Briefly Quinn looks around for something that has warmth, character, something that showed more than a passerby occupied the space. The bedroom is rather barren, ever since she had come back, part of her still couldn't bring herself to unpack all of her things. Her eyes catch giant teddy bear discarded in the corner since the night of the carnival. Without thinking, she collapses and curls into it. Her face is tucked into its neck and she lets one of its stuffed arms fall around her shoulders. Sobs racked her frame. And it's almost comforting…

A tentative knock comes from door and Judy Fabray walks in. Her heart breaks at the sight of her youngest clutching the stuffed animal with a picture of Beth's sonogram in her hand. The older woman doesn't ask; she doesn't need to. Her arms automatically go around Quinn and she's whispering in her ear.

"Oh honey! You don't have to self-soothe anymore. I'm here and I'm not leaving. I _promise."_

…It's the first time in 10 years that she doesn't break a promise to her daughter and both blondes are crying.

/

On the other side of town, a girl with compassionate eyes is doing everything she can, trying to understand the events of the day. Her desk is in a state of disarray, bits of paper scattered everywhere. The brunette is sitting on her bed; a pencil fisted in one hand and the blonde's borrowed lettermen lies in her lap. The sheet paper is empty, waiting to be filled. Rachel has no idea how she got there...

Snippets of Mary's accusations and insults flow into her mind, and the anger builds up again. She remembers the slight drop in Puck's shoulders and shame dances over his face briefly. It hurts because despite what the world said Noah Puckerman wasn't a Lima loser and he shouldn't have to feel like one.

-Flashback-

It was after Puck had just been thrown in the porter-John.

"Boyfriend troubles, I've got that covered, considering I'm normally the cause of them. Walk with me."

He drove them to the local nursing home. Rachel was surprised to see all the nurses and attending physicians treat him as if he was a regular visitor. It turned out that the mohawked boy took a community service job here one summer and could never bring himself to give it up. It was his best-kept secret; he went on to threaten her within an inch of her life should she ever tell anyone.

The rest of the day was spent reading and providing company to the elderly. Rachel was sure that she had never seen the tall boy be so gentle, so kind. He had dutifully helped with the bedpans, fluffed pillows and kept the residents entertained. There was such respect in his eyes as he sat and listened to their tales of the good old days. However that wasn't the most important part, he dragged her to a room where two elderly couples sat, cuddled into each other. His voice was low as he told their story.

"Emily has alzeihmer's dementia. She doesn't remember much, has a lot of trouble doing stuff on her own. She was a singer, you know, like you. Myron was a writer. They had a huge fight when they were younger, didn't see each other for 15 years… Anyway, when he hears she's sick, he comes back and hasn't left her side since. He can't sleep without her voice. The doctors don't understand it but they swear she remembers him. She'll only respond to Myron.

Look I don't know what crap you and my man Finn are fighting about but love is worth fighting for…"

-End Flashback-

_Noah was so much more than he seemed..._

But, mostly, the diva was just haunted by the pain in Quinn's expression in the brief second that she had let her self feel. The ex-cheerleader hadn't done anything to defend herself against the onslaught, losing a sliver of her spark each time. It wasn't fair. Rachel wriggled her fingers; she could almost feel the blonde's hands holding hers again. Maybe her psychic abilities _were_ getting stronger…

-Flashback-

Rachel was in the girls' bathroom, trying to clean herself up after a slushie facial back in freshman year. Before she could finish, the door started wriggling. The brunette jumped when she heard the voice outside. It was Quinn Fabray. Quickly she hid in the nearest cubicle, barely making it. From her position she could hear the sounds of the blonde comforting a crying girl. _Quinn had a heart? _Rachel peeked through the crack in the door.

Quinn had one arm around a young freckled freshman and the other was offering a handkerchief. On her face was a look of worry and kindness that the brunette had never seen on her before. In that moment, the Cheerio exuded a sense on safety and surety that consoled the other girl. The diva was very intrigued. What she didn't realize was that it had the same calming effect on her…

"Hey, Abby its alright. Whatever it is, it can be dealt with. God never gives us more than we can bear."

The distressed girl looked up, searching for any lies. She didn't find any. So she lets herself fall into the comforting arms of her captain, murmuring through her hiccups and tears.

"I slept with Ian last night at Puck's party."

Awkwardly, Quinn rubbed the younger girls back calmingly, not quite understanding the issue. Lots of girls their age lost their virginities, often in a drunken haze or moment of weakness. Then a thought struck, a shadow crossed her face as she tightened her fists.

"Did…did he…?"

"No! It was consensual but I broke my celibacy vow. My mom would kill me. You must be so ashamed."

The head cheerio softened. She pulled back to look in Abby's eyes, taking a deep breath.

"Hey, don't worry its ok. Everyone slips up. The thing about celibacy is that it is a concept. Basically, you keep yourself pure until marriage, the one you truly love. But, in High school it's practically impossible, especially with the raging hormones, peer pressure and weak moments. The key is to try to be better next time. That's all anyone can really ask of you."

Inside the cubicle the brunette is shocked. She wonders if the blonde had been taken over by aliens. For this was supposed to Quinn Fabray, HBIC, and president of the celibacy club. The short singer can't keep her eyes off her, cataloging the minute changes in expression. The blonde really was flawless and up until then Rachel used to believe she was heartless as well. Then Abby asks the question that is on both of their minds.

"Have you… you know?"

Quinn pauses.

"No. I haven't. I believe in celibacy and I know I'm not ready. But I'd like to think that god, my parents or my friends wouldn't smite me down if I did."

This seems to comfort the short haired girl immensely as she thanks the captain walking out of the bathroom. Quinn is about to leave when something stops her. A feeling niggled at the back of her head. She scans the room, trying to find something that would explain it. Her eyes land on the cubicle in the far right. Rachel breath catches and she shivers. Its as if the taller girl could see her, like there wasn't a plastic door blocking the way. And Quinn was staring with such intent…

The bell rings. This causes both girls to jump. The cheerleader shakes it off. Her posture stiffens, her expression freezes… she's the HBIC once more.

-End Flashback-

_Quinn wasn't who she pretended to be..._

All of a sudden the words find themselves. Her hands barely have time to catch up. Thoughts, feelings memories fall into place. Notes are hastily scratched on the paper. Distantly, Rachel remembers Finn's words.

_Go to that place inside yourself where the singing comes from and write from there._

It's the first song she's been able to write since "Get it right."

/

That night, when Quinn finally stops crying and after Judy leaves the room, she tries to sleep. It doesn't come. Her mind is racing but her body screams for rest. Green eyes fall on the giant teddy bear in the corner of the room. She remembers how soft it was. A light smile crosses her features. Swinging her legs around the bed, the blonde makes her way to the stuffed animal. She's crouched in front of the creature. Its chocolate brown eyes stare patiently back. _What was she doing?_

The ex-cheerleader moves it, placing it on her bed. And somehow, in the dark she is able to fall asleep. As Judy makes her nightly rounds she melts at the sight. Her daughter is completely at peace, wrapped around the stuffed animal. It's a rare sight. She doesn't even have the heart to remove it despite the thousands of dust molecules it must have accumulated on the floor from the nights before.

/

The next day, Rachel is passing out sheet music as Mr Schue enters the choir room. Everyone is already seated, waiting for the lesson to start. The diva's voice rings clearly.

"After yesterday's events I was able to write a song. I think it would be extremely beneficial to perform it at this week's assembly. It's done so that Puck and Quinn can take the leads, since they were the ones most targeted by Mrs Edwards."

A series of agreements flooded the room, they were eager to fight back. Quinn is thankful for friends like these. But her attention is on the diva as everyone is reading the page, getting acquainted to the song. The blonde doesn't bother reading the song. Alarmingly, she trusts in the brunette's talent even when she didn't trust in anything else. _Why was Berry so adamant about helping her? _ Rachel holds Quinn's probing stare. The connection is broken by Santana's amused tone.

"Manhands, you think Q is sexy?"

…_Yes…_

"No! I wrote this from Puck's view…not that Quinn isn't a very pretty girl. In fact she has many attractive features but I di – "

Rachel falters, closing her eyes in exasperation. She didn't even need a shovel at the rate things were going. The blonde has a red flush extending up her neck and she is sure everyone can see it. Her eyebrow is raised in amusement and lights danced behind those green eyes. The Latina watches the interaction curiously before putting the diva out of her misery.

"Oh jeez. Calm down manhands I was just jerking you around."

The brunette starts to breathe again. Quinn rubs her own neck, finally taking a glance at the song.

"Uh, Berry? You do know that I've had sex before right? You kind of have to make a baby."

Before Rachel could say anything, a voice piped up from the most unlikely of places. It's so soft that you barely hear it.

"It's different with feelings. Its better…."

Brittany says, as she Santana share a smile. Everyone is a bit taken aback at the simplicity of the statement. Without control, green and brown eyes meet and the room gets a little quieter and a lot warmer.

"Well I'm very proud of you, Rachel, for taking the initiative and standing up for one of your fellow teammates. Let's do this!"

Mr Schue sounded. Everyone moved around, getting ready to practice. Rachel walked back to her spot next the Finn, trying to tear her attention away from the blonde in front of her. The footballer hugs the smaller girl, whispering in her ear.

"I'm so proud of you Rach. This is really awesome and it's totally cool that you're supporting Quinn and Puck like this. You're a good friend."

_Friend? Enemy? Fellow glee clubber? Neither girl knew for sure anymore..._

/

The microphone screeches throughout the sports hall catching everyone's attention. Behind the curtain New Direction is buzzed. Quinn watches as nearly everyone goes up to congratulate the brunette on a job well done. She wants to as well, but she can't bring herself to move. All her nerve endings are excited, her heart is thumping from the support from her friends and she's not sure if she's in control.

"Quiet please, children. Quiet now. Students are advised to take the north and south exits after school to avoid the biology laboratories due to an unfortunate incident regarding the accidental release of certain animals. If you come into contact with any of the toads you are advised to see the school nurse immediately. Now we have a treat for you, here are the New Directions."

Principal Figgins hobbles down to the neared bench. The curtains are lifted. New Directions are in a line at the back. Quinn and Puck move forwards. Artie and his band start the music and the blonde is moving around the boy with the Mohawk. Her voice is soft, clear and certain as it fills the auditorium. Her eyes are sharp as they drill through the head of a surprised Mary Edwards who is sitting in the front row.

They're scared of his make-up tattoos and piercings

Puck lifts his shirt to reveal an inked patch of skin. Girls in the gym can be heard squealing. Santana and Brittany cheer from their position. Mr Schue is laughing with Ms Pilbury at the sight of the kids having so much fun, fighting back.

They say that it's too bad

He won't amount to anything

They judge by the way he looks

Whoa

The cover's not quite like the book

He's just so misunderstood

Whoa, Whoa, Whoa

The blonde moves off the stage walking in front of the grimacing redhead and her daughter. Puck and Quinn share a smile. Rachel's head is high she watches the blonde sing, commanding the whole audience. Her words flow from the ex-cheerleader's mouth so naturally.

Cause it's so obvious

There's nothing wrong with us at all

It's our life, we're alright

No, we're not about to go and make

The same mistakes you might have made

Quinn points mockingly towards Mary, smirking at the embarrassed hiss that escapes. In a moment she is back on the stage as Rachel's voice filters in next to her. A small but incredibly warm hand slides in to her own. You wouldn't know it but the blonde stands a little taller.

It's so obvious

So just stop blaming us

Because it's not wrong to be young

No we're not about to go and make the same mistakes you might have made

No, we're not about to go and make the same mistakes

The diva's fingertips softly ghost over the small scabs on the blonde's knuckles, from her breakdown in the car. Rachel's gaze a mixture of sadness, concern and caution. Quinn wonders if her shiver was noticeable. She doesn't get to think about it very long because her hand is quickly dropped as the short singer steps back. They are both startled at how empty they feel without the contact. Only Puck's voice stops them from moving back to each other as if in a trance. The well formed footballer walks up to the blonde holding out his hand, which Quinn happily gives into. But she can't help the comparison that occurs in her mind. _Too many callouses, not as warm, not as reassuring._

She's eighteen

So sexy

As Quinn twirls in his arms her eyes catch those of the brunette, for just a second.

She's never made love

so-called friends are saying

She sleeps with everyone

Puck sings at Kelsey and her cronies menacingly. Quinn puts a hand on his shoulder, feeling him loosen under her touch. He turns to smile at her.

They judge by the way she looks

Whoa

But the covers not quite like the book

She's been so misunderstood

Whoa, Whoa, Whoa

Lauren joins him in the next bit. Puck's eyes adore as he makes room for her next to him.

Cause it's so obvious there's nothing wrong with us at all

It's our life, we're alright

No, we're not about to go and make the same mistakes you might have made

The couple step back and Kurt steps forward in all his colorful and sparkling glory. His suit studded with beads, tassels and semi-precious rocks.

It's so obvious

So just stop blaming us

Because it's not wrong to be young

No, we're not about to go and make the same mistakes you might have made

Brittany and Santana jump in taking the microphone. The two girls stand on each side of the blonde holding her in a one-arm hug. They are quietly winking and laughing as their voices melt together. Quinn does all she can to keep her composure.

They judge by the way we look

Whoa

The covers not quite like the book

We're just so misunderstood

Whoa, Whoa, Whoa

With every tear that escapes, the girls just move a little closer and hug a little stronger. Pretty soon there's no tears, just laughter. And Rachel's so glad she was able to do this for the girl who always had to be strong.

It's so obvious

There's nothing wrong with us at all

It's our life, we're alright

No, we're not about to go and make the same mistakes you might have made

Artie, Mercedes and Sam sang. Brittany and Santana move back to their position at the back. As all of New Direction move and disperse along the stage, Quinn knows exactly where the diva is. Her astounding voice acting like a beacon. So when a hand reaches out and squeezed her shoulder from behind, she knew exactly who it was.

Finn, Mike and Tina teamed up for the next bit.

It's so obvious

So just stop blaming us

Because it's not wrong to be young

No we're not about to go and make the same mistakes you might have made

The whole group sang the last few lines together. There was strength in numbers and the power of their combined voiced blew through the gym. Even Sue Sylvester looked slightly impressed as she stood by the ready next to the fire alarm.

It's so obvious

No, we're not about to go and make the same mistakes you might have made

It's so obvious

No, we're not about to go and make the same mistakes

There was silence with the exception of the heavy breathing of the singers. They were all very proud of their performance but it had taken a lot. Mary Edwards was red-faced as she stood up, pulling sharply at her suit. Without saying a word she stormed out of the building. The students cheered at the sight. It seemed Glee Club hadn't been the only thing on her target list. Principal Figgins gives Mr Schue an enigmatic thumbs up as he walks off to his office, nobody would know but he was glad the band of misfits won.

At this, the rest of glee club burst out into celebrations. Despite all the clapping, hooting and jumping around them, Quinn meets the diva's gaze. The words from the song resound in two minds.

…_It's so obvious…_

_/_

I have a thing for symbolism, don't I? They don't know it but their actions paint a different story ;) Love? Hate? Still happy with the pace? You know what to do. Review. XD


	7. Chapter 7 Sectionals

**Chapter 7 – Sectionals**

Ack mini writer's block. To those who asked I didn't write that song its called Obvious by Faber Drive. I kind of have a whole playlist for this fic and the storylines are intertwined around it. The playlist will be released at the end ;) Thanks inkydinki for the kind words I'm trying to make the story believable (my personal vision for S3) XD

/

"Alright guys, Sectionals is in two weeks, we need to get cracking on our set list. I'm thinking that we should do all original songs this year since this is going to be some of your last chances before college and its something that no other teams has."

A cheer erupts in the room. Finn and the blonde ex-captain share a weary look. _Oh shit._ It's been almost a month since Mary Edward's visit. And there's been nothing but tentative smiles, accidental grazes and random moments of understanding between the blonde and the brunette. Surprisingly… it's enough. It's actually more than either of them can fathom. But, they don't acknowledge it; they try not to even feel it. So when Quinn raises her hand to say what she does, it _hurts_. It hurts more than Rachel Berry cares to admit. 

"Mr Schue, I think Mercedes and Sam should take the solos for sectionals."

_What? _The divas head whips around, her hand is gripping the red plastic chair in a vice grip.

"You've got to be joking! Everyone knows Finn and I have amazing proven harmonies. If we want to win we should put our best foot forward, that's us, not those two."

Santana rolls her eyes and Mercedes glares at the short singer. Only Sam's hand prevents her from giving the 'annoying little white' girl a firm ass kicking. Quinn simply holds Rachel's look, summoning the will to do this, because _God…_ looking at those innocent browns, this was harder than she thought it'd be. She tries to keep in mind that there is a goal, that she wasn't being cruel for nothing. You'd _think_ it would make things easier. It doesn't. But when she finally speaks, her voice soft and it doesn't waver.

"That might be the case but if this club is _really _a family, if we _are_ actually equals shouldn't we consider others as well? Sam has a good voice and Mercedes hasn't had the chance to perform a solo in front of an audience for competition. Even Santana has had a lead in Valerie."

A murmur of agreement moves through the group. Despite his friendship with Rachel, Kurt is ecstatic for his other best friend. Santana has a curious look as her eyes flicker in between the blonde and the distraught brunette. _There was way too much freaking drama… _Mr Schue is taken aback by the truth in the blonde's statement and the determination behind her eyes. He can't fault her logic. So with the knowledge that it could cost him his most talented student he lifts his hands up. The room quiets just a little.

"Quinn raises a good point. So if we can all agree, then the duet for Sectionals will be allocated to Mercedes and Sam."

"Oh hell yes, finally!"

Mercedes exclaimed. Her grin is unmovable as she accepts everybody's congratulations. Sam only nods to Quinn, because he just knows that there must another agenda. She was one of the best people he knew, but she was also very complicated. Her actions had double meanings and her words were always so carefully chosen, like there was something to hide. He hoped one day she was able to work out her issues or would at least find someone that understood. Partly, he's still sorry he couldn't be the one for her because she deserved it. However, those thoughts are easily chased away by the dark goddess next to him. Looking at the Rachel, he feels some sympathy towards her as well. Despite the inflated ego and patronizing nature, he had come to realize that she was a really good person. And if he thinks about it, he's never seen her so depressed. Crestfallen the brunette barely looks up, unable to wipe the betrayal from her expression. Her eyes burn through the blonde. The words are just as accusing when they are faintly whispered.

"How could you, Quinn? I thought…after everything I did for you…"

The blonde clenches her jaw. She wonders how she managed this in the past. But the words slip out before she even has a chance to stop it.

"I wasn't aware there were strings attached, Berry."

All eyes are on the two girls. The brunette's small frame staggers back as if she had been hit. Rachel has no control, no barriers to the tears that appear. _Why was the blonde being so mean? _She runs from the room. Quinn can't stop the regret that seeps into her green orbs. It takes more than she expects to stay in her seat and not chase after the crying singer. The ex-captain doesn't even notice the lack of circulation in her white gripped hands until Brittany gently pries them open, bringing one to her lap. Finn stands up ready to go after his girlfriend. The ex-head Cheerio still has the good sense to try and stop him.

"Don't. Leave Berry alone for a while. She needs to think."

Finn doesn't listen, shrugging the hand off his shoulder. He's so angry because he doesn't _understand._ In their own weird way, the girls had been getting along. Instead of her usual single-minded concentration, Rachel had started to relax and smile a little _differently_. Her scary 'paparazzi' smile was replaced by a shy look of happiness that involved small quirks of the lips. The footballer doesn't mind the change because she's beautiful either way. Quinn, on the other hand, had actually gone out of her way to trip a Cheerio who was making a beeline for the short singer, slushie in hand. He remembers the cautious confused expression that emerged afterwards. The blonde had paused for a second, just staring into the distance. Still, Finn shoves the warning away, following in Rachel's direction.

Quinn's palm meets her head exasperatedly. In a matter of minutes there's crash, a whimper and a clang. A high-pitched scream of 'Go away Finn' is heard. The ex-captain rolls her eyes when the footballer shuffles back with his tail tucked between his legs. Santana snickers; even she knew to leave the argument alone. The rest of the group gathered together to start working on the set list. Rachel would be back eventually; after all they were a family.

/

It's halfway through the lesson when Quinn stands up and heads for the door. Brittany and Santana's knowing gaze follow their friend. Confused, Mr Schue looks up.

"Quinn, where are you going?"

The blonde runs her fingers through her hair sharply, pausing at the door. A deep breath is taken as she turns her head, addressing the music teacher with a bored tone.

"It's been about 15 minutes Mr Schue. So that means that Berry has just about made the transition from complete irrationality _to_ her equally annoying version of a _mildly_ open mind."

No further explanations are given as she walks out the door. Finn moves to follow but is shoved back down by Santana. The footballer cares for his girl but even he doesn't have the nerve to defy the Latina. Frankly, she's just a bit too unpredictable and violent. He often questions how he managed to lose his virginity to her. A stab of shame reappears. He slumps into his chair, glancing nervously at the door. _Surely the person who cared most about the brunette should be the one to go?_

/

Rachel is sitting on a changing bench in the girl's bathroom with a runny nose and bloodshot eyes. Her knees are brought up against her chest. The sounds of sniffling and sharp breathing bounce off linoleum walls. By now, the anger and shock has dissipated and all that's left is _why? _She's plotted over a dozen scenarios ranging from robots to drugs. Shockingly, in each and every one the blonde is not at fault.

There's a slight creak of the door as a shadow is cast over her.

"Go away, Finn."

A pause. The person moves to lean against the sinks. It's then that Rachel realizes that the shape is far too graceful and feminine to even resemble the footballer. Her breath catches.

"I'm not Finn."

The brunette snaps to meet Quinn's gaze. It's a stalemate because the blonde has done enough damage already and Rachel _won't _retaliate. In that moment, they might as well be standing nose to nose because both girls _swear_ they could feel the other breathe. The ex-cheerleader tilts her heads slightly.

"I'm probably just a little more coordinated."

There's nothing her face to suggest that she's joking and it's because of that, that Rachel can't help it. A smile and then a chuckle, pretty soon it's a full-blown laugh. Vaguely, it's registered that Quinn looks a little petulant and put off, charming in its own way. The interaction is simple, comfortable and _easier_ than it should be. Somewhere the diva feels just _a little_ bad that she's being amused her boyfriend's mishaps but it's not in the forefront.

"So why Quinn? Why'd you give my solo away?"

Sighing, the blonde turns to moisten some paper towels under the tap. Quinn isn't looking at anything but the wall when she hands it to the brunette. It'd kind of reminiscent to the bathroom scene during junior prom but the roles are reversed. Eventually she manages to force herself into the spot on the bench, opposite to Rachel. _She wishes she hadn't _because then, it's not a practiced lie that comes out.

"You wanted this year to be different, right? To mean _more_? So that you're wanted and not just tolerated."

Motionless, Quinn is staring at the brunette. Rachel is taken aback because it's almost as if the other girl has memorized every word of their exchange at the start of the year. From when she was concussed, the _first time._ Ignoring the lack of response, the ex-cheerleader continues.

"Look… here's a few things that I _know_. Fact – you're going to end up on Broadway. Fact – Brittany and Santana are going to be married someday with the 2.5 kids and the white picket fence. _And _if Brittany is as smart as I suspect she is, Santana's going to be the one carrying them."

There's a gap as the statement sinks in. There's no uncertainty in the blonde's tone and Rachel is shaken because there is a difference between knowing and _believing_. Quinn was both. When the ex-captain has the diva's attention again, she leaves no room for misinterpretation. The singer feels _so _warm. And biology dictates that her heart _shouldn't_ be beating this fast.

"…Fact – _you're_ going to be the one to carry this club through Regionals and Nationals. So why can't Mercedes and Sam, or anyone else, have a turn at the start?"

For once, the brunette's mind is blank as her mouth opens and closes. She doesn't have an answer, at least not a logical one.

"Bu –"

Quinn emits a small growl of annoyance as she walks over to the sinks again. She needs to put some distance between them because she's conflicted. There's a desire to punch the brunette in the face. And then there's the fear that she might be revealing way more than she intended, as if there was something else. Her grip on the situation and her sanity is fleeting.

"Berry! I am not asking you to compromise yourself or to stop serenading us during rehearsals. Just try and be a little more open. _Let _others have a turn in the spotlight…it's _their _last year, as well."

_It's mine, too._ The thought is left unsaid, but both girls understand. Eventually, Rachel meets Quinn's gaze, nodding slightly.

"Ok. I can't promise anything but…ok."

The blonde looks away.

"Stop stressing, Berry. Sam and I did quite well last time."

"Ken and Barbie?"

An eye roll follows a scoff. There's no hostility, only a light sparkling in their eyes as they share a smile. They _almost _fall back to old positions because it's safer that way. _Almost. _Quinn is certain her life would be simpler if she just ignored Rachel Berry_._ It's easier said than done.

"I'm _right_ here, Berry…"

The tone is sarcastic. Rachel doesn't say a word. Her feet somehow take her to the blonde and a hand reaches out to touch Quinn's shoulder. _Breathe… _The tan arm stops, hovering in the middle, held back by some uncertainty, fear… resistance. Quinn's inquisitive gaze scorches, even when her body is stick still and nearly pushed against the sink. _Breathe. Please just breathe._

Suddenly, Rachel's at the door and the blonde is only inhaling the air she leaves behind. The diva stops for a moment; casting one more look to the girl frozen against the basins. The ex-cheerleader is focused on a spot on the wall.

"I – I just wanted you to smile, Quinn. There were never any strings attached, you know…"

She doesn't catch the slight shake of the taller girl's head as she walks out.

_But things would be so much easier if there were…_

Because then, Quinn wouldn't be standing alone, in the girl's bathroom, on the second floor of McKinley, with nothing to say and a host of unwanted feelings. She wonders why the diva's happiness even means anything to her. _How did giving Berry friends help her relationship with Finn? _Rachel and Finn _that_ was supposed to be the endgame. Maybe she was just an overachiever because there was no way she was doing it for the brunette. _No way._

/

The ex-cheerleader gets back just in time to hear the diva's address to the class and she snickers. It was so Rachel, genuine and arrogant at the same time.

"Everyone, I have decided to step aside and let Mercedes and Sam take the solo for Sectionals. I doubt they are going to do it as well and Finn and I could, but nevertheless this glee club has my support. I understand that this is our last year before college and we should all make the most of it."

Mr Schue relaxes visibly as a childlike grin appears. With shaking heads, the amused group pulls out a chair for her. It may not have been an apology but it was as close they were going to get. It's actually a miracle that they've gotten this much already. Finn slips his hand around the brunette's, smiling encouragingly. Puck and Mike give her a thumbs up whilst Tina just smiles quietly. Even Mercedes gives Rachel a quick hug as they start discussing the music. Kurt, Lauren and Sam offer to take a look through her binder list of ideas. It the first time Rachel Berry feels totally accepted. It's the first time she's not pushing everything to her specifications. And it's _better. _

Quinn…she knew. _This was why…But…_A flood of awareness enters her mind as she tries to find the blonde. The ex-cheerleader is sitting on the piano stool joking with Santana and Brittany. And Rachel doesn't know how to say it. How does the one person who was _never_ your friend, always make things right_? _And why can't you turn away? The diva is stuck in her chair and in that moment her advanced vocabulary is useless.

_Thank you._

Feeling her senses prick, Quinn glances in the diva's direction, her expression slightly hidden. It's only for a second before she's back to her friends, discussing Sue Sylvester's latest diet edict. One of the girl's on the team had gained two pounds, sending the psychotic coach in to frenzy. Ambassadors of the Sue Sylvester Party will not be seen with baby beer guts! It's a quiet afternoon.

…_You're welcome…_

/

Three days later.

"This is ridiculous, we're not getting anywhere!"

Santana's loud voice blares out from the back; her hands busy braiding Brittany's hair. Kurt and Tina were doodling costumes on their sketchpads and Puck was reading a workout magazine in the corner. The ragtag group was no closer to being finished with the set list. They had been working on the group number but the dynamics were wrong. Everybody had different views and it was starting to show in the way they interacted with each other. Finn had kept rather silent through the process, which was becoming rather difficult. The club now expected him to make significant contributions due to what had happened at nationals. His only saving grace was the few times Quinn was able to slip a scrap of a line into his sweaty palms. An exchange that didn't go unnoticed by Rachel or Santana for entirely different reasons. Still the brunette had managed to rein her jealousy in. Finn _loved_ her. And Quinn? Well it was hard to say the smacks she kept delivering to the poor boy's arms were out of love. Although the blush that emerges on the footballer's face every time the ex-cheerleader had leaned in was a little worrying.

"Alright, alright. I think Santana's right. It seems that we've lost our drive to do this. We need some fresh eyes. So I'm going to separate you guys. Quinn and Rachel can focus on the duet. Finn, since you did such a good job at nationals you should probably join them. The rest of us will try and finish the group number."

The blood drained out of the giant footballer's head whilst Quinn's eyes narrowed in annoyance. Santana is smirking like there's no tomorrow. It was hard enough to hide the fact that Finn had no ideas for songwriting in a large group let alone in one with only three people. The ex-cheerleader refused to be stuck in a room with the stuttering boy and the brunette's random suspicious glaring.

"Mr Schue, I think Finn should join you guys with the group song, he would be a greater asset there."

_And hopefully the rest of you cover him. _

The music teacher thinks about it for a second.

"Ok, Quinn that might be a better. We might need his ideas here. I trust you and Rachel to cooperate and create a masterpiece for regionals. Remember, we're a team girls!"

Santana leans forward to whisper annoyingly in Quinn's ear.

"Good luck with the hobbit, Q."

"What are you talking about? You and Brittany are with me."

"What? No! Not happening. You can't pay me enough to spend all that extra time with man hands Berry. Its enough that Brittany insists on going to get ice-cream every damn week ever since she found out the dwarf works there."

Quinn rolls her eyes, turning to face the tall dancer. The Latina narrows her eyes.

"Brittany, want to come write songs with me and Berry?"

"Sure, Quinn."

The reply is instantaneous and cheerful. Quinn grins in response. Brittany notices the suddenly still hands in her hair. She tilts her head back in the Latina's lap, looking up concernedly.

"San, what's wrong?"

Santana glares at the blonde, that was low. Whatever, she would find some creative way to get her friend back later. A grin slips on her face. She had missed this version of the blonde. Brittany would stop either girl when their antagonizing got to far.

"Nothing Brits. I guess we're going with Q and the hobbit."

/

Later that night, after a long and arduous softball practice Quinn was sprawled out on her queen size bed trying to focus on her homework. For some reason she couldn't focus, her eyes kept slipping to the green LED alarm clock on her bed. _Ten forty two_. Thunder could be heard outside as rain splattered against the skylight window in her room. The blonde sighed picking up a pencil, trying to force herself to work on the math equation in the textbook.

-Flashback-

Quinn had run back into her locker to retrieve her softball gear when she heard the diva's pleading voice a few rooms down. Curiously she made her way closer, standing out side the door.

"Kurt, could you please take me home after my night shift today. It's Thursday and my fathers are busy with

work. My shift ends at eleven but I could wait."

The skinny but fashionable boy looked genuinely saddened as he responded.

"I'm sorry Rachel but I've got to keep my dad company at the hospital tonight. It's his monthly checkup."

The brunette's shoulders drop as she nods understandingly. She tries Mercedes who's sitting with Sam at the back of the room.

"Mercedes, I know we sometimes have our issues but do you have the time to drive me home tonight around eleven when my shift ends? This is both my father's late night at work."

"Wait, you don't have a license Rachel?"

Sam asked surprised. He would have thought the diva would be the first to get her hers, considering she seemed to excel at nearly everything else. The brunette turns to explain.

"Well, you have to practice a great many hours and my fathers always had the time to get me to where I needed to go. It didn't make sense to invest my time in something that would detract from my singing and vocal exercises."

"Oh okay. Well Mercedes and I kind of have a date tonight but I guess we can work around it."

The blonde boy offers kindly. Quinn smiles. He really was a good guy, probably the most sensible person she's met in a while. It really was a shame that she couldn't make it work. Maybe Finn was right she didn't really love Sam, at least not enough to keep him safe. Then she remembers what Timothy, the Ferris wheel operator had said at the carnival. _Love doesn't let us down…_Her thoughts are interrupted by Mercedes voice.

"Let's see, if our dinner is at 8 then the movie starts at 11:30. Let's see. Sam could probably get you home and meet me at the theatre while I'll get the tickets and the seats."

Mercedes did the mental planning in her head, knowing the other girl didn't have any other option. Despite their competitive drives the darker girl still cared about the brunette. They were friends after all, getting along quite well when they were out of the spotlight. Sam nodded.

"Yeah. It'll be a bit tight but totally doa – "

"No! I wouldn't ask you to do that. Don't worry; I'll come up with something else. You two should enjoy your romantic evening together."

Rachel interrupted. She was really glad that her friends were willing to amend their plans but she couldn't impose like that. Especially considering they were still in the initial stages of their relationship. She would figure something else out.

"Really? Are you sure Rachel? It's totally fine, we can still go out on our date and get you home."

Sam asked concerned. The diva nodded her head firmly, refusing to take the offer.

"Well ok then. Good luck Rachel."

The short singer nodded, keeping the wide smile on her face, watching her friends leave the room. From her position Quinn saw Sam and Mercedes walk to the car park. Feeling a pull, she then turned to look in rehearsal room. Through the gap in the door, she registered the slump in the brunette's shoulder and the pasted smile slipped away. Rachel's back to the door as she organizes Mr Schue's sheet music meticulously. The ex-cheerleader feels something heavy settle in her stomach. But before she can think about it any further she hears the Latina's voice in the distance.

"Q! It doesn't take that long to get a bloody catcher's mitt out of a locker. Hurry up, before coach starts throwing softballs at us!"

-End Flashback-

Quinn tries to shake the thoughts from her head. Softball had done a pretty good job of distracting her but now that she's alone again, it's a lot harder. _Ten fifty... Forget about it, Berry would have found a ride by now._ She pushes the tip of her pencil against the notepad. She recites her working out loud.

"The line is a tangent that cuts the sin graph at the peak so that mea – "

Thunder claps outside as a spark of lightning appears in the distance. Her heart beats a little faster. Part of her swears the giant carnival teddy on her bed is staring disapprovingly at her but she can't bring herself to kick it out of her bed. Quinn can't help but glance at her clock. _Ten fifty two… _She closes her eyes and repeats.

"It's not that bad outside. Don't even think about it Quinn. You are _not _worried about Berry. You are _not _responsible for her safety."

The blonde wants smack herself when she realizes that somehow, she's in her car and outside of Carl's Ice-creamery. Her lips are pursed as she glares at the neon lit sign. It's a Mexican standoff of sorts as Quinn refuses to get out of the car. _She was really going to kill Finn. _She's also convinced that she's gone slightly dumb from hanging round the footballer so much. It was alarming really, they were spending more time together now than when they had been dating. The rain is bearing down on her windshield and the blonde's only thought is…_ Yeah, stupidity must be contagious…_

/

It's 11:20 when the ice-creamery bell dings as the blonde finally talks herself through the front door. Rachel looks up and she's frozen in shock. Quinn is the last person she had expected to walk through that door and the fact that the ex-cheerleader looks like she's about to hurt something does not calm the diva's nerves. Neither girl has anything to say really. One doesn't know _how_ she got there. The other doesn't want to explain why she's _still_ there. Rachel wasn't able to find another ride home. She had planned to walk but with the weather outside that was no longer an option. For the first time in a while, the air is awkward.

So nothing is said. The brunette continues to clean and close the shop for the night. The blonde sits down in one of the booths. She massages the kinks from her muscles. _Sue Sylvester would scare Generals in the army. _Quietly she grabs a napkin from the holder and a pen from the counter. As Rachel works and Quinn sketches, awkwardness blends into peace. It's the first time they've been alone since the solo incident in the bathroom. Every time Rachel brought it up or tried to say thanks the soft-baller made a sarcastic comment and walked away.

The radio crackles.

_Hello, to you late night listeners. This is __KT97.8__ station and you're with Robby Rave in the non-stop music hour! Here's one of our favourites now!_

The slow start of Ronan Keating's When You Say Nothing at All, filters through the speakers, filing the room. Both girls stop what they're doing for a second. The male's strong soothing voice sings.

It's amazing

How you can speak

Right to my heart

Without saying a word,

You can light up the dark

Try as I may

I could never explain

What I hear when

You don't say a thing

"You know, this is the song they played at the Chasity Ball, ironic isn't it?"

Quinn's voice is soft and slightly bitter. It's the first thing she's said all night. The chorus continues to play in the background. Rachel turns around and meeting the blonde's look from behind the counter.

"Why'd you go? I thought your parents had just kicked you out for being pregnant. Why did you even want to go?"

There's a pause as Quinn looks incredulously at the short singer. Rachel seemed too realize her mistake, answering the unspoken question very quickly.

"Finn told me. He didn't know what to do."

The blonde rolled her eyes, running her hand through her short blonde hair. _Of course, he did._ She's completely focused on the napkin in front of her, folding and refolding. When Quinn speaks there's a crack in her tone as her voice takes on a very husky quality. She hates that feature because it tells people she's about to cry. However, from the changes of the brunette's expression the blonde suspects the other girl knew anyway.

"I thought…a few days had passed since I moved out. I thought that they might've have forgiven me with that little bit of time. That maybe, seeing me in the dress they picked out would show them that I was still their little girl…"

Quinn looked up, her eyes were self-deprecating.

"I spent the entire night sitting on the sidelines. My parents refused to acknowledge my existence."

Rachel didn't shy away, she can't. She feels her heart bleed a little for the girl opposite her. To have your family ripped away from you, for your father's love to be conditional, she couldn't imagine it. Quinn was stronger than most. There's a gap because the diva didn't know how to respond, how to make it better. So they both listen to the song.

Whenever I fall

You say it best

When you say

Nothing at all

The brunette sings the next verse. It was a beautiful song.

All day long

I can hear people

Talking out loud

The blonde closes her eyes letting the other girl's voice wash over her. Rachel Berry really didn't belong in Lima, Ohio.

But when you hold me near

You drown out the crowd

(The crowd)

The memory of Nationals floods both their minds. The brunette remembers the security provided by the other girl's embrace. Quinn remembers _caring_.

Try as they may

They could never define

What's been said

Between your

Heart and mine

A thought strikes the diva as she stops singing abruptly and walks to the blonde's booth. Her eyes are excited as her tan arms are extended.

"Come on Quinn, let's recreate the experience for you."

Rachel's smile is blinding as she looks insistently to her hands. The ex-cheerleader doesn't move looking up in disbelief.

"What? No!"

The brunette stomps her foot. Quinn refuses to think of it as adorable but she can't stop the amused smirk that appears on her face.

"You just want to dance."

The voice is accusing but the glint in the green orbs is playful. Rachel doesn't need to think her answer comes out automatically.

"That too."

Rachel thrusts her hands out again, with more emphasis. Quinn shakes her head as she starts to stand up. _She couldn't believe she was doing this._

"You're not going to give up are you?"

The brunette nods even if she doesn't have to.

"You lead."

The short diva orders authoritatively. Quinn balks.

"What why?"

"You're taller."

The answer is simple and straightforward, coupled with the diva's raised eyebrow. The blonde feels her self blush at Rachel's obvious tone, _actually _blush! _Get it together, Fabray. You do this and drive Berry home. Then, you can get back to your math homework. _

The blonde straightens, holding one arm out and placing the other on the singer's waist. It was so small, Rachel felt so fragile in her arms. Quinn's never been the taller one in a dance before. Rachel takes a step forward, slipping one hand into the pale awaiting one. Her right hand goes around the ex-cheerleaders neck. Quinn is the perfect height and it feels natural. A breath is expelled. Brown meets green and their body's start moving.

The smile on your face

Lets me know

That you need me

There's a truth

In your eyes

Saying you'll never leave me

The two girls are fluid as water as they glide across the floor. Quinn sends Rachel into a twirl, watching the shorter girl pirouette away and then back into her arms. They're laughing as they temporarily forget who they are. Lights dance in both of their eyes. Somehow they can't wipe the grins off their faces.

The touch of your hand says

You'll catch me

Whenever I fall

You say it best

When you say

Nothing at all

The blonde spins both of them around and when she stops, they're both a little disorientated. Their footing is a little less precise, as one accidentally stumbles into the other. It doesn't stop the chuckles though, if nothing else it gives them a second wind.

(You say it best

When you say

Nothing at all

You say it best

When you say

Nothing at all)

The shorter girl is dipped exaggeratedly. She must have misjudged the step because they stumble and the blonde is pulled down on top of the diva. Both girls freeze, breathing heavily from the exertion. Quinn has one hand braced on the floor in the junction where Rachel's neck met her shoulder. The other is still holding onto the singer's waist. She could _feel_ the other girl's ribcage move with her breathing.

The smile on your face

The truth in your eyes

The touch of your hand

Let's me know

That you need me

Shaking herself out of it, the ex-cheerleader stands, offering a hand to the girl on the floor. Her voice is light when she says.

"Ok I think I've had enough of you stepping on my feet for one day."

"What? Quinn I'm an excellent dancer."

Rachel leaves no room for rebuttal as she goes to get her things. The blonde just shakes her head.

(You say it best

When you say

Nothing at all

You say it best

When you say

Nothing at all)

"I'll drive you home…"

The next Thursday, Quinn walks in after softball practice. There's no questions or curious glances. The blonde sits in her booth and completes her homework. When it's closing time, the books go back into the red and white McKinley duffel. She holds the door open for the brunette as they exit the ice-creamery. Quinn takes Rachel home. Sometimes they talk, sometimes they don't. But, Rachel forgets to return the soft-baller's letterman…_every time._

/

The kids are buzzing behind the curtain. It's Sectionals! Everyone was doing his or her own rituals. Brittany and Mike were practicing their dance moves. Puck was throwing a tennis ball against the wall. Lauren was adjusting something on her website. Artie was checking the mechanics of his wheelchair. Every one was doing something because as confident as they were about their abilities, the rush that came with competition still threw them off a little. Quinn watched from her position in front of the piano. Ever since Santana had so helpfully blurted out her piano playing skills Mr Schue had become quite adamant about including it in their performance. Kurt, Rachel and Sam had their hands full trying to calm Mercedes down, drawing on their own previous experience.

Quinn hears the host announce.

"Please Welcome the New Directions."

And just like that everybody snaps into his or her cues. It's as if a switch has been turned on as they transform into _that group, _the well-oiled unit. The blonde starts the piano and pretty soon the house band backs her. Sam starts strong, walking towards Mercedes. The rest of the group stands behind them. They're moving side to side, providing background vocals.

It hasn't been long, but it hasn't been bad

And you may be the very best thing, I've ever had

But you want to know, cause you're making plans

Well, I'll make you a promise I'll keep, I'll do the best that I can

Rachel can't help but catch the pianist's eyes. It's a secret joke because they remember how this song started…

-Flashback-

Everyone was quite bored. They had no idea what to do, considering they didn't know much about the new couple's relationship. What were they comfortable with? How did they feel? Santana was making paper planes from her failed ideas and Brittany drew ducks on her palm. Quinn is sitting in front of the ebony and ivory instrument, she's completely immersed in playing Yann Tiersen's Rue des Cascades. The fast movements her fingers and the passion coiled in her frame captivated the shorter girl.

"Careful there man hands, don't want you going all lovesick of Q's mad piano skills."

Santana's amused tone sounds out next to her. Rachel is rolls her eyes at the Latina who simply shrugs.

"You'd think that I'm joking. But on Q's last recital this girl started following her around like a puppy. I think she even tried making Q play for her birthday."

The Latina looks vaguely thoughtful as she tries to recall the fact. The diva shakes her head amazed by the story. Quinn is winding down as she finishes the piece. It's just in time when she hears the short singer murmur in a stubborn tone.

"I'm not in love yet…"

-End Flashback-

Rachel lends her voice to the chorus. Her eyes somehow linger on the blonde. When Quinn looks up she nearly misses a beat.

I'm not in love yet, but I'm workin' on it

It might take some time

It ain't easy to do if it's gonna be true

I'm not in love yet, oh, but I'm workin' on it

Without thought, the two girls share a grin as Mercedes steps up pushing Sam back playfully. Her voice is smooth and soulful as she starts her part. They had done a really good job with the accompaniment. The ex-head cheerio is singing lightly with her.

There you go again, tryin' to pin me down

Isn't it enough for me to say, I love having you around

Rachel falters a little. Her ears are keyed in on the taller girl's voice.

And why do we always have to talk about the way that we feel

Baby, all the conversation in the world, won't make it more real

Quinn's gaze is compelling. Involuntarily they both remember all the times they've confronted each other about one thing or another. The rest of New Directions help with the chorus but the two girls are focused on each other.

I'm not in love yet, but I'm workin' on it

It might take some time

It ain't easy to do if it's gonna be true

I'm not in love yet, oh, but I'm workin' on it

Yes, I am

Mercedes breathily confesses. The crowd goes wild. Sam walks closer grasping her hand. He's grinning with the next line.

I hear you when you say, you need some kind of proof

The dark diva shakes her head softly as she sings.

Well, it may not be what you want to hear but I'm telling you the truth

Everyone joins in with the question.

And why do we always have to wonder what the future will bring

**And baby, all I know is how I feel now** but time can changes everything

Sam starts the sentence and Mercedes finishes it. Quinn hits the keys with a flourish. The girls set up behind Mercedes and the boys behind Sam. Their confined voices bring the crowd to their feet as they move their hands to the music.

I'm not in love yet, but I'm workin' on it

It might take some time

It ain't easy to do if it's gonna be true

Once again for the next line the two lead singers alternate. Mercedes starts while Sam finishes. They have surprisingly good chemistry.

I'm not in love yet, oh, **but I'm workin' on it, babe **

It's gonna take some time

Everyone belts the final chorus. The boys dance with the girls. Finn is dancing with Rachel. The brunette has to look over his shoulder but her eyes are trained on Quinn. She can't, not.

I'm not in love yet, oh but I'm workin' on it

It ain't easy to do if it's gonna be true

I'm not in love yet,

The group takes a pause before finishing. Both girls look away. Its not obvious but Quinn's palms are sweating and Rachel's breathing harder than she's ever had to before.

_Oh but I'm workin' on it…_

/

OK. I am feeling weird about this chapter, I don't know why. Ah well I'm sure it'll come to me…maybe you guys will know. But yay something there that wasn't there before! XD Quinn's starting to do things that have nothing to do with helping Finn all on her ownsies.


	8. Chapter 8 A Very Drunk Christmas

**Chapter 8 – A Very Drunk Christmas**

Sorry for the lateness. Thanks for the kind words guys! To agarza1538 Finn doesn't drive in this story as I've mentioned in a previous chapter because he gets breakdowns from the mailman incident behind the wheel XD Sad so very, very sad, oh well never fear Quinn will RELUNCTANTLY pick up the slack.

/

"Quinn, come on! Your house is _huge._ It's the best place for this party."

"Not. Happening. Puck. Do you remember what happened to Santana's house a few years ago? Her parents _still_ hate you."

The blonde raised her eyebrow, crossing her arms.

"Really? That's why they don't like me? I always thought it was because they caught us making out on the kitchen island. Huh..."

The boy with the Mohawk scratched the back of his head in a mix between sheepishness and pride. His grin was almost lecherous as he recalled the thought. Quinn shook her head. _She really needed new friends._

"Whatever. Just move your Christmas party elsewhere, Puckerman."

The footballer's annual December party was legendary. A place to get drunk, get lucky and in the blonde's personal opinion catch a nice STD. Basically, a text message is sent to all the "cool" people at eight o'clock on Christmas night and they just showed up at the aforementioned location. It was hard to get away from your families, but everyone pulled through. In the past Quinn had always made the cursory appearance before returning home. Not going would entail the loss of popularity and bits of very scandalous information. As _thorough _as Jacob's blog was, he never got close to this event. _Thank God. _With the amount of times she's had to pick Brittany and Santana up, well… let's just say she could have used all that petrol to take a road trip to New York_._

"Don't _do_ this to me Quinn. This party is a tradition. Look, just say you'll think about it."

Puck places a hand on the soft-baller's arm, looking down pleadingly. Quinn rolled her eyes, leaving him by the lockers.

/

Quinn groaned as Judy Fabray held up a hideous looking cat shaped ceramic bowl. _No, just no. _The ex-cheerleader hated shopping for Christmas, it was when all the psychotic shoppers came out of the woodwork, their eyes trained on sales and bargains. She often felt sorry for the frazzled out mothers and the tired fathers who missed out on the last toy or doll that their child so desperately wanted. In the Fabray household, gift giving had always been a formality, just a big show. Although extravagant, all that had mattered was besting others in social ranking and affluence. Would that change this year? The blonde turned to face her mother.

"Mom, only buy that if you hate the person you are giving it to."

The older woman crinkled her brows, looking inquisitively at the object. _Was it really that bad?_ Still she trusted her daughter and put the ceramic down, scouring the store for something else. Quinn wondered around tiredly.

"Who are you trying to shop for anyway?"

"Oh I must have forgotten to tell you, all the parents of the glee kids are having a little get together at the Berry family's home on Christmas night. I thought it'd be nice to bring them a something..."

Judy answered, tilting her head quizzically at the object on her left. It was either an exotic vase or a massive kindergarten art and craft mistake. She didn't notice the shock on her daughter's face. Quinn was now facing her mother with her arms crossed incredulously.

"You're going to Rachel's for dinner? What about us? Don't you want to spend our Christmas together?"

The younger blonde is so upset that she doesn't even realize she's using the diva's first name. Judy stops her task, turning around to face Quinn. Her heartstrings are stretched as she flusters under the poorly veiled hurt of her daughter. The ex-cheerleader could lie and hide with the best but failed under the gaze of her mother. In some strange way it had bonded them even if they weren't _actually_ speaking to each other, even when one, Russell Fabray had swayed her mother. The older woman walks over to her daughter. Placing an arm around her, she moves them to a seat in the department store.

"Of course I do, honey. It's just that I didn't know if you wanted that this year. I mean, you're a senior now, I thought you might want to spend the night with your friends."

"What do you mean?"

Quinn asked confused. Judy simply shook her head in amusement, rubbing her daughter's back comfortingly.

"We, parents, _do actually _notice when our children mysteriously disappear after a phone call on Christmas night."

The older blonde winks. A sheepish expression appears on Quinn as a small smile crawls on her face. Her mother had been right of course, but this year the e-head Cheerio had planned on skipping it entirely. She had had enough of the drinking arties and forcing herself into a role she didn't feel. Judy brushed a couple of strands behind the younger girl's ear, smiling encouragingly.

"Honey, why don't you hold that Christmas bash at our house? I know that you've been feeling a little off-balance ever since you left the Cheerios. Parties, it's what all the popular kids do these days right?"

Quinn sighed heavily, shaking her head at the ceiling.

"What is it with everyone and this party, first Puck and now you?"

"I just want you to be happy, Quinnie. Stop worrying about me and everything else that goes through that head of yours. Just have fun. You have no restrictions. I trust you. Who knows, may a high school party might just get rid of the stiffness that your father left behind."

Judy bumped her daughter's shoulder gently. Quinn chokes back a chuckle. Their relationship was new but already she couldn't imagine an existence without this version of her mother. The soft-baller could do it alone but she _didn't have to _anymore.

"Whatever you decide, just make sure all the breakables are under lock and key."

Judy's light voice brings the blonde out of her reverie. The older woman is once again looking for the ideal gift. A thought pops into Quinn's mind.

"So you are _really_ going to the Berry's for dinner?"

Judy turns around perplexedly at her daughter's tone. It was a cross between disbelief and something else. Something she couldn't quite pin point. Ever since school had started the younger blonde was behaving differently. She spent more time in that room of hers with the piano. There was always something hiding behind those eyes.

"Of course, why wouldn't I be?"

The answer is given curiously. The mother stares at her increasingly surprised daughter.

"Mom, you do know that they're gay right? Rachel Berry has two fathers."

Quinn is tensed, prepared for a scolding, derision or a speech about the sins of homosexuality. A look of apprehension descends on her pale features. There might be a dash of fear but it's covered by anxiety. At the sight, Judy instantly softens; a suffocating pain spreads in her chest. She's so sorry that her daughter thinks so shallowly of her, that because of Russell she's _let _it happen. The mother walks to the younger girl, placing a hand on the blonde's cheek comfortingly.

"Oh, I'm not your father honey…"

Judy's bittersweet smile is met with Quinn unwavering stare. The older woman moves to hold her daughter's hand in hers.

"God loves us all, Quinnie: criminals, sinners…even recovering alcoholics."

The two share a smile at the last statement. Judy continues. If nothing else she can teach her daughter to develop an open mind and not make the mistakes she did. It would be something that Judy's own parents never gave her. Maybe, just maybe she could bring some clarity into those murky green depths, staring back her.

"Love is hard enough already, without gender playing a part…Look at your father and I, we followed all the rules and conventions but our relationship was a lie and easily broken."

The comment is simple and confident, it resounds in Quinn's mind. She nods, squeezing her mother's hand. She feels better than she expected. It's a little disconcerting. _Why should she care whether her mother accepts Berry's parents?_

Rolling her eyes, she stands to help the older woman find a suitable gift. _But seriously, what was it with this store? Everything looked ridiculous!_

/

An hour later, still no success. Judy's energy has deflated and Quinn groans noting the time on her watch. She has to meet Finn soon. The boy had spent his holidays in a wheelchair but he had managed to buss enough tables to buy his girlfriend something meaningful. He just couldn't figure out what. Enter the blonde. Despite her annoyance, she could appreciate the trouble the footballer had gone through. If he could only learn faster…Quinn _needed_ him to learn faster…so she could stop caring…so she could walk away from this.

After winning regionals, the girls had thawed into a tentative truce. They didn't eat lunch together; link arms down the halls or even initiate many conversations with each other. _But_ every now and then, they sat closer in glee, answered passed notes in AP Chemistry and looked away at contact. Grazes, taps, congratulatory squeezes of the shoulder, it all had the same effect. Rachel always blushed furiously, turning to Finn for the remainder of the hour. She doesn't feel _sure _anymore. Temporarily, she doesn't feel like Rachel Berry. Quinn always jumped, whirling away towards Brittany and Santana. She never joined the talks, preoccupied by the point of contract. The ex-captain's angry, frustrated, exhilarated; and it's all the same. _Not good. _

"Honey, I'll leave you with that Hudson boy to do your shopping now. I'm sure I'll be able to find something for the Berry's alone. Even gay men like electronic gadgets, right?"

Judy asked innocently, causing her daughter to startle. Quinn shook her head amusedly waving to her leaving mother. As Judy left, Finn shuffled up to the blonde. He was early.

/

Finn and Quinn were sitting in the food-court. The footballer was polishing off his third cheeseburger whilst the blonde was leant back in her chair, pen to napkin. They had been brainstorming for the last hour.

"Finn, come on Berry is your girlfriend. You know her… so you know what she likes. Put the burger down and tell me something."

The blonde was bored. She could easily just walk into a store and buy something but if Finn was ever going to handle the brunette without her, he had to practice now. Quinn couldn't keep this up forever and she didn't want to. Chastised, the tall boy chewed quickly, putting the greasy meal down. His face scrunched in thought. It _actually _looked painful.

"Um. Well Rachel likes pink stuff, singing and that Barbra Streisand chick. Maybe I could get her concert ticket or some kind of autographed thing they sell online. I could also get some jewelry if you think she's like that?"

Quinn nodded. He was thinking… It was a start. The blonde flicked through the mall's directory scanning the list of shops. What do you know? Clothes, sport shacks and greasy food. The ex-captain sighed. Welcome to Lima.

"OK. But all those suggestions are on the surface. Anybody in glee could have guessed that. Now, give me a suggestion that would mean something to the both of you… so that Berry will think of you around it."

Finn shifted in his seat, scratching the back of his head.

"I think it should have something to do with music."

Quinn nodded in agreement. The footballer continued hesitantly.

"Well, maybe I can get her a new camcorder or karaoke machine. I don't know sh – "

His voice was tuned out momentarily, as the blonde's eyes fell on a flier: The Green Room, a composition and recording studio. She read the information, her mind running overtime. A spark of _something_ reached the base of her skull... _Berry was more trouble than she was worth._

"– so Quinn, what do you think?"

The soft-baller grabbed her bag.

"I've got another idea…you coming?"

Quinn moved to the car park. Almost tripping on his legs Finn hastily followed.

/

"Here, give Berry this."

The blonde collapsed into the chair next to the boy. She had spent the better part of her day talking to the technician at studio negotiating about conditions and prices. In the end, Roy, the owner had written down his best offer. In the footballer's hand was a brochure for a full weekend in one of The Green Rooms many recording studios. The artist would get to put down a full album. At a loss, Finn didn't know what to say. It was a great opportunity, scarily so. Before he could say anything Quinn interrupted.

"Don't! Don't say thank you Hudson. Just …get it right, ok? Giving Berry this shows that you'll support her no matter what, that you believe in her. Even when she makes it to Broadway, you'll always be the first person to give her a chance."

The blonde looked away, bringing out her phone. Something heavy was pressing against her chest and it gets a little harder to focus. Finn's about to speak but the ex-cheerleader had already shut down. The only answers he would get now would be sarcastic and unhelpful. Quinn had reached her capacity for open communication today. The footballer nods thankfully as he ambles to the counter. It would take _all _his summer job savings but it would be worth it. Just to see Rachel smile. The ex-captain doesn't move but for some reason she _can't _unclench. She's worried about the time where her reasons for caring will outweigh her reasons for walking away. Her shoulders relax, as she fingers the brochure…it was a _good_ choice.

Shaking her head, she does the first thing that comes to mind. Maybe her mother was right a party could be what she needed, what everyone needed to feel like them self again. _Puck is going to be ecstatic._

/

Three days later, the diva is euphoric as she tugs at her short skirt. It was the first time she had ever been invited to this party, only hearing whispers about it in previous years. She had been shocked when Quinn had walked up to her in AP chemistry saying the words 'expect a text'. The blonde was a bundle of mixed signals. That alone _shouldn't _excite the diva... but it did. It wasn't something she thought about a lot; there was almost a silent agreement to ignore it. Instead she tried to think of the footballer. He was simpler. A smile crawled onto her face; he's slowly becoming the person she always wanted.

Rachel sighs. Her outfit was a variation of her normal uniform except without the argyle. The blonde's voice echoes. _Nobody looks good in argyle, Berry. _The plaid skirt finished an inch after the curve of her bottom, exposing her unspeakably long tan legs. She wore a skinny fit white tuxedo shirt with the top two button left undone. A loosely knotted dark green tie completed the ensemble. One last look was taken, before turning to skip down the stairs.

On the ground floor of the Berry home you could hear the hustle and bustle of parents joking and high school memories. Leroy Berry was putting the finishing touched on the turkey before it met the oven. _Don't ask. _Rachel could never get the dark man to consent to a vegan diet. Hiram was entertaining the guests. Burt and Carol were cuddled up on the sofa talking comfortably with Mercedes parents. Sam's father had taken the night off job hunting to join in the festivities, nursing a light beer.

"Wow…"

The word escaped Finn's lips as he passed Rachel an appreciative glance. The diva smiled lightly hopping into his arms. He gave her a small swing around causing a squeal to come out. They're laughing as she's put down on the ground. She can't help but count the many differences between Quinn and the footballer. He was so much larger encompassing her entirely._ She_ was solid, strong but not unyielding. The blonde was taller but not smothering. Rachel had to look up to see Finn's eyes. The diva didn't need to do anything with Quinn. Her hazel-greens were always _just there._

The nervous giant clears his voice looking down.

"You look great, Rach."

The brunette didn't get a chance to respond as the doorbell dinged. Noticing that her fathers were busy, Rachel went to greet the guest. When she opens the door her mouth goes kind of dry. Blonde hair and the same piercing green eyes. On the other side of the door is none other than Judy Fabray holding what looked like a wrapped wok. She looked disarmingly like her daughter. Dumbly Rachel steps back letting the older woman in.

"Please come in Ms Fabray. You're Quinn's mom, right? Dad and Daddy will come and say hi when they can. They're a little busy in the kitchen."

Judy smiles graciously.

"It's no problem. I'm sure I'll be able to talk to them later. You're quite correct I am Quinn's mother. You have an incredible voice, I remember you from Regionals two years ago. I hope my daughter hasn't been giving you a hard time, it's just she's been living with Russell Fabray a long time."

Judy has placed the wrapped cookware aside and has the diva's hands clasped in hers. The older woman knows she doesn't need to elaborate. Few people who had actually had the displeasure to meet her ex-husband actually liked him. He was rude, insensitive and pompous. Judy regrets her past inaction. Rachel is blushing as she nods understandingly. Her voice is a little less stable than she expects. The truth of her words impacts her as she speaks them.

"Ms Fabray. You've raised a wonderful daughter. Any transgressions we've ever had, has been forgiven. Quinn is…she's sometimes just lost between who she wants to be and who she _thinks_ she _needs _to be."

Surprised, the older woman leans back a little, looking at the girl who seemed to comprehend her daughter so well. The brunette is unwavering. For a moment, Judy thinks she sees a hint something _else _flash behind the younger girl's eyes.

"Thank you Rachel."

The mother's gaze falls on the smallish letterman draped on the banister.

"Oh, I wasn't aware you engaged in sport as well. Multi-talented, you fathers must be so proud."

Confused, Rachel followed the older woman's gaze. _Oh no…_she could have sworn she had put that in her wardrobe, _apparently not._ Her heart beats a little faster and a small panic swells.

"I know because my Quinnie has one, just like that, for softball. So what sport do you play?"

Thankfully Finn chooses that time to enter the conversation. His attention lands on the letterman since both females seem to be engrossed by it.

"I didn't know I lent you my letterman… Oh well, you look good in my clothes, Rach."

The footballer smiles goofily to the shorter girl. He doesn't notice the small exhale of relief from the brunette or the confused expression on Judy's face. Before he has time to figure it out, he remembers why he had interrupted their conversation.

"Hello Ms Fabray. Sorry to interrupt but Kurt's in the car outside. Rachel, we're about to head over to the party now."

Rachel glances at her watch in alarm. She looks up when a warm hand is placed on her arm.

"Go. Have fun. You're only young once. If you see my daughter, remind her to make sure everyone either has a designated driver or a room in the house to sleep in."

Judy's smile is warm as she nods to the door, giving the brunette a light nudge. She can't help but wonder about the short singer's reactions to mentions of her daughter. What had Quinn done to garner those responses?

/

The party was already in full swing. Puck, Santana and Brittany had arrived early to the set up. Music blasted through the rooms from the DJ stations. Kegs were randomly placed in room. The indoor bar became a self-serve environment covering all the basics, wine cooler, Jack Daniels and rum. Cheerleaders and footballers were scattered around, awkwardly trying to grind another person. Half the people present were already intoxicated to some degree. Most of the glee kids had built their own little tipsy nook.

Quinn stood at the base of the staircase, watching the mess unfold. _Why had she let Puck and her mother talk her into this? _She almost jumped at the loudness of the buzzer. The blonde went to open the door. At the sight, part of her wanted to slam the door right back. But her nervous system had temporarily dislocated itself from her brain. Instead she felt herself step aside. Kurt walked in first, looking around in awe.

"Kurt, Blaine's already in there with the others. Uh, try the parlor room in the corner beside the mantle."

The fashionable young boy nodded heading in the aforementioned direction. Finn stepped in next dragging a hesitant Rachel through the door. Quinn's breath caught and for a second she had to clamp her lips together as a whimper fought its way up her throat. In the light, she could see every detail of the diva's outfit. Her body started to heat up and inexplicably her palms started to get damp. _Huh? _Without control her eyes ran down the singer's lithe figure, lingering slightly on the heaving of the brunette's chest and the slight swish of the schoolgirl skirt. The shirt was unbuttoned so that you could see the swell of the shorter girl's breath. The blonde couldn't hear the music anymore, only the rushing of her blood and the _thump, thump, thump _of her heart. _She felt out of control. _She needed to get a grip, some distance. Her mind screamed escape routes but her legs were like lead.

Rachel on the other hand blushed heavily under the attention. She doubted that even her tan skin could hide it. The soft-baller's once-over had her nerve endings firing erratically. Tingles and small shocks ran up and down her spine and Quinn hadn't even said a word yet. Her hand slipped out of the footballer's grip. She feared that any touch would betray what she was feeling or even worse put a stop to it. The brunette could still feel the heat of the other girl's gaze, scorching leaving trail marks. She met the ex-cheerleader's look, biting her bottom lip unconsciously. _Just for a moment_ she thinks she sees Quinn's green eyes darken into an unrecognizable shade. The diva shuddered. It was only then that noticed what the blonde was wearing. Despite that fact that it was only a pair of pajama pants and a light blue tank, Rachel couldn't look away. As creepy as it was, her field of vision narrowed on the sliver of skin between the two articles of clothing, providing teasing glimpses of the smooth toned stomach underneath. She found herself hoping that the other girl would move just a little so that she could see more. _Maybe the wine cooler in the car hadn't been the best idea._

"Hey Quinn, nice party."

Finn enthused, scanning the rooms. The blonde broke her connection with the singer to acknowledge the footballer.

"Thanks, but this is mainly the work of Puck Santana and Brittany. They've been here practically the whole day."

The tall boy nodded and like magnets, her gaze fell on the singer again. Rachel had been unusually silent since stepping into the house. Mentally she scolded herself for caring. She had done her part, loaned her house to her friends for the night, greeted everyone who entered and now all she wanted to do was hide in her room for the rest of the night. She couldn't spend any more time down here. The atmosphere would kill her because for all the sport she played she couldn't breathe.

"Welcome to the party. I'll leave you to it."

Turning to leave, she's stopped by a small tan hand. Both girls swallowed forcefully, weathering the sparks and waves that slithered up their arms. They _weren't _affected. They _didn't _feel anything. People said that if you repeat a lie enough it becomes truth. Quinn prays that's the case because she doesn't have the strength to deal with this, whatever it was. Was it loathing? Or was this simply friendship with Berry? Green eyes snap to brown.

"I had the opportunity to meet your mother today, Quinn. She said to make sure everyone has either a safe means of transportation home or a room to spend the night."

The words poured out like a stream, verbal diarrhea. The brunette didn't know what had possessed her hand to stop the other girl. She just didn't want her to leave not when ever cell in her compact body jumped in the blonde's presence and vied for her attention. Quinn raised an eyebrow at the random statement. She looked down at their conjoined limb. There were goose bumps around the area where the brunette's hand laid. The brunette blushed, noticing for the first time that she hadn't let go.

"I think she might have brought daddy a wok. She's very charming, Quinn."

The brunette smiled brilliantly, unexpectedly leaning in to give the blonde a hug. Neither girl breathed. She then slipped her hand back into Finn's and letting the footballer lead the way. Quinn didn't move, eyes following the singer as she disappeared into the crowd. The words slip out as a whisper.

"Yeah… it's something that we, Fabrays, have to work on…"

/

"Ugh Q, stop being a wimp and come down stairs and drink with us. Brits and I miss you already."

Santana's voice is loud. She's leaning against the frame of Quinn's bedroom doorway with her arms crossed. The blonde simply rolled her eyes continuing the random composition that she had been playing. Soft notes bounce through the room.

"Is this about manhands? Because, even I gotta say she actually looks hot tonight."

The Latina observes her friend stiffening before her. The notes are played a little more deliberately this time.

"I don't care about Berry."

"Bullshit. You got weird last Thursday just because Kurt offered her a ride home."

Santana recognizes that she's pushing it, but from personal experience limbo and denial wasn't better than knowing. She has her suspicions and unfortunately Quinn is never honest unless she's about to break. The blonde hit her keys hard. A small clang resounds.

"Look it's got nothing to do with Berry or anyone else!"

The ex-captain pauses letting it sink in. She takes a deep breath and her eyes are slightly glistening.

"I just don't like what alcohol does to me, Puck, Beth, my self control?"

Santana sighs, pushing herself off the doorjamb as she walked to her friend. Quinn slides over a bit to make room. The Latina bumps her friend's shoulder, clearing her voice. She makes sure she had the blonde's attention.

"I… don't think playing the piano, alone, in the dark is a better combination Q."

There's a lull in the conversation. The two alpha girls rarely talked like this. When they do, it's because there's something that needs to be said.

"Why are you here Santana? Shouldn't you be keeping Brittany away from Artie?"

The Latina scoffed, standing up.

"We gots a situation downstairs Q…"

/

"You're kidding…"

Quinn pursed her lips. Dancing in the center of the room was the diva, completely unaware of her surroundings. Her drunken gyrating was sandwiched in between two faceless footballers. The blonde felt a flash of anger as one of the boys tried pull the brunette closer. Her jaw clenched and her fists whitened.

"Where the hell is Finn?"

"Manhands started hitting the drinks like a champ after Finnocence, there, got hammered serenading every

Tom, Dick and Harry with _I will always love you_."

Quinn rubbed her temples tiredly. She tried to release the tension in her muscles, imagining a sequence where she would pound sobriety back into the footballer. It helped to a degree. What was Finn thinking? The girl got _drunk on wine coolers_! _This_ was _Puck's _annual party. Leaving Berry alone tonight was irresponsible. It was stupid. It was w_rong…_and it _wasn't _what Quinn would have done. Santana shook her head amusedly.

"I'm actually slightly impressed. She's going to want to die tomorrow though. Do you need any help Q?"

The blonde was far from listening. Her eyes narrowed on the red-haired boy who had suddenly made a grab for short singers dress. She was barely breathing when he tried to place a sloppy kiss on the brunette. But she saw _red_ when he didn't take no for an answer. In a flash she's across the room, shoving the clumsy boy into another partygoer. Even in his drunk haze he knows Quinn is someone to be feared. Especially when her eyes had no emotion. You couldn't tell if there was anyone behind the rage-coiled frame. Not that that mattered to the drunken singer who had suddenly latched herself to the soft-baller. To the boy's shock, the ice queen didn't shove the girl away, simply rolling her eyes. Rachel didn't know where she was, or the name of her dance partner but she _knew _Quinn would protect her. It was like an internal binary code for _both_ of them.

The brunette's arms were latched loosely around the taller girl's neck. Her front was draped on the blonde's back; so much the ex-cheerleader could feel each new breath. The blonde could feel the expanding of the singer's ribcage. She could _feel _soft peaks rubbing against her shoulder blades. And, dear god, her body was responding. Small hairs stood up and all of a sudden the room seemed to rival sauna. Sparks of something settled south. Somehow, they were breathing _in sync_.

"Q. I got this. Take the dwarf upstairs."

Quinn looked up. The Latina had the boisterous boy menacingly by his collar. If Puck had planned this correctly there would be designated driver making rounds by the hour. Nodding, the ex-captain grunted under the diva's weight. She managed to turn herself around so that she was facing the singer. The blonde stilled her body against the brunette's squirming. It didn't help the charges running dancing across her spine.

"Berry!"

No response, the brunette was riveted by the hooting in the other room. Her head lolled to the right, as a goofy grin appeared on her face. Exasperated, Quinn used one of her hand to lift the singer's chin up.

"_Rachel,_ I'm going to get you upstairs. Can you walk?"

The drunken girl seemed to perk up with her name. She unwound her arms from the blonde only to teeter dangerously, nearly collapsing into the coffee table. The only thing that prevented impact was the strong pale arm that had shot out to grab her waist. Quinn sighed.

"I guess that's a no."

Instead she moved one arm to back of Rachel's knees whilst the other had a strong grip on the singer's shoulder. Balancing the weight, the blonde lifted the shorter girl in her arms, making her way up the stairs. The brunette squealed at the change in altitude eventually falling into asleep. Quinn struggled and grunted all the way to her room. Along the way she mused on a few things not the least of which was that Rachel was a lot heavier than she looked and apparently slept like the dead.

In her sleep Rachel tried to snuggle closer to the blonde. Warmth filled the soft-baller as her arms tightened _just _a little. As she reached the top of the staircase she paused for a moment. _Which room?_ Then she remembered that this was Rachel's first time at a party like this. She remembers the lust in the red-haired boys expression. First came anger and then a rush of protectiveness.

It's a split second decision but she turns to _her_ room, laying the singer down softly into _her_ bed. Even when she's unconscious the brunette seems to know what she doing. Immediately feeling at home in the queen sized bed getting comfortable. Before Quinn can stop her she has her arm wrapped around the giant carnival bear that was on the left side of the mattress. She really liked the bear. She felt comforted by the blonde's smell on the stuffed toy, lilac and fresh grass. Her head buried closer in the teddy. The blonde sighed. It was an endearing image but she needed to get the animal away from Rachel before she woke up. There were questions she's rather not answer.

Emitting a soft sound of contentment, Rachel turned in her sleep and settled into a new position. Quinn lifted one hand to push a few dark tendrils away from the brunette's face. Instinctively, she places a chaste kiss on the singer's forehead. Later in the safety of her bathroom, the blonde would tell herself that she had simply gotten caught up in the atmosphere and that the gesture meant nothing.

/

Splashing some water on her face, Quinn tried to wake up a little. Shaking of the weird feelings and the tension in her limbs. _It's nothing._

When she leaves the en-suite Rachel is not in her bed. It takes a several moments before her eyes land on the small figure huddled against her wall. There's scratching sounds as the smell of permanent markers wafted to her nose. The blonde's eyes widened as she quickly made her way over. Etched on her wall, were two concentric circles and a star, encompassed in a heart. _Whoosh_. She can hear her blood rushing. In that moment, she's annoyed, confused and disturbed all at the same time. Her mouth goes dry. _Breathe, Fabray. You can't blame people when they're drunk…_

"Berry, why is there a picture of a star and a donut on my wall?"

Rachel is a little startled by the blonde's voice. But very quickly a large grin appears on her face. Her brown eyes are glittering. It the same look children have when they know something adults don't. The brunette leans forward as if to tell a big secret. Unconsciously Quinn finds herself leaning in.

"No, silly. It's a star and a Cheerio."

The soft-baller doesn't say anything. She simply turns her head to look at the wall and traces the black patterns with her hand. _The heart…_ A smaller tan hand covers hers. It's warm and sweaty. Quinn doesn't mind. She can _barely _function her mind conveniently disappears. Both girls don't really register the faint noise of the party or anything else as Rachel guides the other girl's hand. Her voice is soft but slurred.

"I'm the star and you're the cheerio."

Quinn's fingers touch the design a last time. _It was permanent. She would need to repaint if she wanted to be rid of it. _It takes nearly all of her resurrected walls to ignore the shorter girl's words. But it's not enough because she's still affected by the vibrant feelings behind those brown eyes and the proximity of their bodies. The blonde might not have been able to put a label on it, but there was something in those orbs that compelled her. They're both breathing heavily. What _is _this?

Rachel smiles lopsidedly as she leans forward just a little bit more. Her hand brushes a blonde lock back behind Quinn's ear. There's barely any space in between them. Their noses actually graze accidentally. And, green and brown eyes meet, unwavering, entranced_, and darkening_. The ex-cheerleader can't move. If she does she'll loose control. But, then again, if she's being honest she's lost it already, for she wasn't the one running this show. Once the strand is tucked away, the tan hand doesn't return to the brunette's side. Instead it slides down to the junction when Quinn's chin met her jaw _very slowly_. Both girls follow the movement. Rachel exhales. The blonde shivers, feeling it dance across her face. Her eyes are shut. _Lord, please give me strength not to do this…_

All thoughts become insignificant when the brunette closes the distance, covering the blonde's lips with her own. It's not time stopping or world changing. In fact the kiss itself is actually a bit sloppy and tainted by the bitter taste of cheap alcohol._ But_ it ignites something dormant. The pleasure is thrilling as it overwrites every other sense in their bodies. They break apart for a moment to catch their breaths. Quinn cringes because she _can't resist this…_ Rachel doesn't understand much but she knows wants the blonde's frown to go away.

There's a start and stop motion as Quinn's body leans forward and her mind tries to reel back. She's fighting a loosing battle and she was _sober_. A tear escapes when their mouths fuse together a second time. The slight saltiness affects both of then. Rachel's tongue slides out running along the ex-captain's bottom lip. Quinn whimpers and the brunette's pink muscle pushes in, rubbing, coaxing and inviting the taller girl to respond. It takes a minute before the soft-baller lets go and moves her mouth in tandem. She must be doing something right as a groan escapes the singer. Her arms go around Rachel's waist. She starts to lean the shorter girl backwards. One hand is braced against the floor whilst the other wound around the diva's waist lowers her down.

Her body completely cover's the brunette. Their fronts pressed against each other. Quinn breaks the kiss, looking at the girl beneath her. The singer's eyes are glassy as the blonde searches for something. There's an element missing. It's Rachel but at the same time it isn't. The person in front of her is passion, lust and sexiness personified. However she has none of the mannerisms of Rachel Berry, no meticulous nature no inhibition and no plan. Feeling sick, Quinn rolls away. She doesn't know what to do with her self. What was the other girl doing to her? And how did she ever let it get this far? Before tonight she would've have blanched scoffed at the idea of making out with the diva. Her mind goes back to alcohol awareness week. _Blame it on the goose. Got you feeling loose. Blame it on Patron. Got you in the zone. Blame it on the a a a a a alcohol..._ but what if she _didn't_ drink any.

Quinn rubs her head looking at the other girl. Rachel hasn't moved simply staring strangely at the ceiling as if to decipher a code. The blonde sighed.

"Berry, look you're drunk. Let's just forget about this. Come on. You need to rest."

With the help of the blonde, she moves sluggishly back to the blonde's bed. Quinn tugged the comforter around the girl tucking her in. Once she's sure the girl is comfortable she moves to the guest room. A soft voice stops her at the door.

"Stay…"

It's the same words Rachel said the night they lost nationals but everything's changed since then. This time Quinn doesn't ignore the need in the other girl's voice. She nods resignedly, moving to the other side. The blonde makes sure there's a safe distance between them before she closes her eyes.

/

The next morning Rachel wakes up alone with a pounding headache. Her hear is mussed, flying in different directions like a rampant cloud. Where was she? The last thing she remembered was Quinn's party, a lot of drinking and then blank, _nothing_. Her eyes fall on the note on the bed stand. The righting is simple, neat and so much like the ex-cheerleader.

_Drink the water and take the pills._

On the side were a glass and two white pills. She does as the note says and closes her eyes, trying to recount the events from last night.

"You're in my room because you got pretty drunk last night. Santana and Brittany are two doors down. Finn and the rest of glee club are still asleep down stairs."

The blonde's voice is cautious as she stands in the doorway. She's reluctant to get any closer. Rachel looks up, smiling gratefully. She's a little embarrassed and wonders what she did. Finn told her she was a "needy drunk."

"I hope I didn't do anything too unorthodox. I don't remember anything after my fourth drink."

Using her hands she tries to brush and flatten her hair. She's so busy rearranging her hair and clothes that she doesn't notice the large drop of the blonde's shoulders as relief floods her expression. Quinn feels a little ore like herself. Eventually, the brunette finishes her task and she looks semi presentable. She curiously scans the soft-ballers room. The room is rather barren except for the piano in the corner. Her gaze falls on the small sketch on the far wall. Two concentric circles and a star encompassed by a heart. Quinn flinches, stiffening. The diva's head is tilted in confusion as she looks to the taller girl.

"Quinn, why do you have a image of a star and a donut on your wall?"

/

The next few days go slowly. Quinn feels more confident with each day that Rachel doesn't remember. The blonde's managed to convince herself that she had simply experienced a mental breakdown due to the rigorous training regime that coach Sylvester had created. She even took a few days off that, much to the surprise of Brittany and Santana.

The soft-baller had also managed to avoid being alone with the diva, until now… Rachel stood in front of her with a serious expression. For a moment Quinn is worried that the brunette remembers.

"Thank you for the Christmas gift, Quinn."

"For what the argyle sweater? I probably didn't do the world any favors by giving you that. To each their own, I suppose."

Quinn was confused. It had been a simple enough present. It was acceptable but quite meaningless, really. So what was with the diva's expression? She almost steps back when Rachel steps forward. The brunette squeezes her arm in gratitude.

"No Quinn. _Thank you for my Christmas gift. _I called up the The Green Room's recording studio with some questions. The technician said he was surprised that I was calling, considering _the blonde_ that brokered he gift seemed to understand every aspect of it."

The blonde didn't do anything, only opting to say the statement.

"Finn worked really hard to pay for it."

Rachel nodded happily. She was grateful to both of them. The brunette couldn't believe that the footballer had used what was probably all of his summer savings. But interestingly, she _could_ imagine the blonde doing this. She held the taller girl's gaze openly.

"_Thank you, Quinn." _

The ex-captain softened.

/

Tadaaaaa! So? What do you guys think? XD


	9. Chapter 9 Ugly

**Chapter 9 – Ugly**

I bring goodies XD but I'm a little in love still with the last chapter. First time writing a kiss like that. I kept trying to write one that I could actually see happening. ;) This is a long one. My stick it to all those bullies out there. Now forward.

/

These days, it was different walking down McKinley's halls. Ever since the Christmas party it almost seemed as if the status quo had been restored, _almost. _More of the student population aligned themselves with the three ex-cheerleaders. Once again, their paths parted like the red sea. There was a time when this gesture would have meant everything to the blonde. Now, it only served to remind her of her loneliness. Alarmingly, her most prominent thought is the diva. Rachel Barbra Berry had always been the only person to try and walk beside and not behind Quinn. The ex-captain actually recalls chasing the brunette at some point. _I'd practice a little bit more because you obviously have a lot you __need__ to express…_

Quinn shook her head roughly; there was a difference between want and need. But she swears she can't find the line anymore…

Thankfully she doesn't get a lot of time to dwell. There were more pressing matters, such as Kelsey and her cronies. They hadn't stopped their ridiculous crusade. If anything the psychotic redhead had become more rampant, feeling the threat to her position. Quinn remembers the feeling. One tiny brunette had brought it on for her… The other girl had it easy.

A loud clang breaks her from her thoughts. The blonde rounds the corner just in time to see Tina and Kurt get shoved into the lockers, _hard_. A small circle of laughing footballers surrounded the two glee kids. Kelsey stood at the center advancing menacingly.

"Come on losers, get up. You're making a mess of the floor."

Tina shook her head disappointedly, trying to help Kurt with his things. The gay teen was always treated more roughly, evidenced by the slow healing bruises under the designer jackets. Each time either of them tried to stand they were quickly shoved back down. Their eyes shut tight from the force of the impact. Quinn feels a surge of anger as her breathing quickens. Her grip on her textbooks is white. However, her body is actually _frozen _when she sees a small brunette concernedly making her way through the sudden sea of students that had gathered around the scene. _Berry…Don't… _

The diva has made it to her fellow glee clubbers and was now staring defiantly at Kelsey. Quinn doesn't breathe because it unfolds almost in slow motion in front of her. A gleam appears in the redhead Cheerio's eyes as she shares a snide smile with her friends. Rachel doesn't see it coming. The small singer is shoved backwards and splashed with frozen corn syrup. The purple ice slips down her face and seeps into her argyle sweater. There are looks of shock on Tina and Kurt's faces as the brunette's turns to ask them if they're ok.

And Quinn can't think. Her focus is entirely on the sad yet brave smile that was pasted on the singer's face. Breaths come in slowly and deeply. Somehow, the anger from before melds _with_ concern. It's a more potent combination. It's enough to get the Kelsey shoved against the lockers. The blonde's never been actively violent before… but she's never been so _compelled_ either…

Bang!

Her hand slams against the metal behind the new head Cheerio's head. It's loud. And everyone jumps. Everyone except for one Rachel Berry, who seems unfazed, completely focused on the staining of her sweater. Tina is unconsciously steeling herself for another attack whilst Kurt is speechless. Trapped in between Quinn and the lockers, Kelsey swallows noticeably, flinching at the barely concealed anger behind the green orbs. Her so-called friends look nervous as they take a couple of steps backwards. The glare that the blonde sends over her shoulder stops them in their tracks.

"Kelsey, you need to back off!"

The statement is absolute. Quinn takes a calming step back.

"Just stop doing this. Don't you get it? The fact that these guys take what you give them _doesn't _make them weak. And torturing them does _not_ make you superior. It took me that long to get that."

A gap manifests. The ex-captain isn't just speaking from personal experience; she's talking about herself as well. There's a trace of scorn and self-loathing. Rachel looks up at the tone, her eyes were kind and forgiving. Quinn… just couldn't look that way. Not if she wanted to be _this_ version of herself. Briefly, in the back of her mind the she registers that there's an audience. Kelsey scrunches her features angrily, as making a lunge for the blonde. The movement is easily sidestepped and the redhead looks the fool. The blobe moves forward.

"Look at Berry... After _everything, _you, me…this _whole_ school has put her through, _she's _still standing!"

Without checking, Quinn's arm is extended and she's pointing at the brunette. Rachel doesn't blush at the mention, but from the forceful belief behind the words. There was no doubt; there was _never _any doubt. The ex-cheerleader leans further into the redhead's space.

"She…you know what, _they_ haven't sunk down to our level. That makes them better than us. _We're_ the losers in this."

Kelsey bristles. Her mouth opens to say something but nothing comes out. A weak sound bubbles from her throat and she feels herself get red. _How dare she?_ The redhead's eyes go over Quinn's shoulders, trying to make eye contact with her friends. Each and everyone were staring at the floor, refusing to look up. Few even had the courage to move, now that Santana, Puck and Finn had arrived forming a protective circle behind the blonde. The disorganized boys were panting in their football uniforms, sweating from their morning practice. All that they heard from Jacob Ben Israel was that there was a catfight happening between Quinn Fabray and Kelsey Edwards in the main hallway. Off in the corner and without a care, Brittany was busy trying to clean Rachel up with bathroom tissues. It's rather simple job considering the brunette was permanently locked in her position, staring curiously at the ex-captain.

The redhead grits her teeth letting out a slight hiss. The process is slow but she manages to right herself, moving from the lockers. There's nothing else to be said. Instead, she stalks away shouldering Quinn roughly in the process. It's a cheap shot and they both know it. The blonde shakes her head disappointedly, moving to help Tina up. She fights the natural inclination to look at the diva.

Now that the adrenaline is gone, all Quinn can think about is the words she said and the spectacle she's made. _Did that really happen? Did I just compliment Berry in front of the whole school? _The softball player never expected it to go so far. She only meant to discourage Kelsey, but the other words just seemed to spill from her lips… one of her hidden truths. Amazingly Rachel Berry has always been a constant. It's simple and it's easy, unlike every other aspect of her life. She can't help but scoff. It's a mess she doesn't want to deal with, so she leaves and the crowd parts.

/

Brrrring!

The lunch bell rings. Finn grabs his bag from his locker making his way to the auditorium. The lights were dimmed but sitting in the center playing the piano was Quinn Fabray. It almost seemed like that was all she ever did these days. Without the pressures of keeping a façade, catering to a boyfriend and maintaining a reputation, she had more time for other things. It was a trade off that didn't always land in her favor. In this instance, the blonde finds that every time she's alone, the kiss is all she can think about. The alcohol, the fluttering and the taste of _Rachel Berry…_

"Uh Quinn, sorry I'm late. Had some trouble with Spanish class but I'm set to go now."

A sigh escapes. It occurs to her that music is the only thing keeping her sane. When she looks up Finn is standing awkwardly next to the instrument. She can't help but think how out of place he looks. His tall form casted a distorted shadow over the white keys whilst his large hand is placed on the top. For a moment the ex-captain thinks she sees something else, smaller and more tan. It's very disconcerting. She feels the urge to push the boy off the stage because this wasn't right, he didn't belong_._ The last person she had had a conversation with here was…

_Berry._

She shakes her head roughly. Quinn _desperately _needed to stop, to _walk away _before she actually_ wants_ to understand what it is that she's feeling. Her heart is working faster than her mind. It's the first time she's felt this out of control, if her actions this morning was an indicator. Her reasons for doing this are blurring more and more each day. She had to get Finn ready _fast_… Whatever it took.

"Have you come up with any idea's for Berry's birthday yet?"

The footballer shuffles slightly, putting his bag down.

"Not really, I mean I used up all of my money for her Christmas present so I don't know what I could do."

There's a pause as they both mull over the situation. Finn pulls at his collar, he wants to give Rachel everything that she deserves but it's hard. He wished he understood the diva _even_ when she was rambling. _Sometimes,_ he wished he were Quinn. She made it look so easy. But, watching her in the hallways he wonders if that's the truth. Lately the blonde has become _different_. She's silent in glee rehearsals only ever singing when she needs to. When she does her eyes never stray to the brunette like they did in the past. Her posture is always rigid as she stares ahead. Finn's sure that the softball player has never been strange _like this_ before but then again she's also never protected Rachel in public either. And he's known her for a while.

"Well, then let's work with what you have. You still work at the Thai Palace, right?"

Quinn's voice disrupts his thoughts. The blonde is rubbing her head tiredly.

"I guess."

The ex-cheerleader's turns back to the instrument with an eye roll.

"So…use that."

Finn scratches his head. It takes several seconds before he realizes her intention.

"Oh yeah! I guess I could pull a favor and maybe rent out the restaurant for the night. I mean ever since Rachel helped me get the job they've been too scared of her gay dads suing them. Now I just gotta figure out _what_ to do, I don't have the money to take her anywhere."

Light music flows through the large black room. It's a slow piece, unfamiliar and new. The music isn't supposed to be sad but the way the Quinn plays it, _makes it so_. Then abruptly it stops. There's a distant look in the blonde's eyes and a flicker of a smile on her face. In that second, she's not there. The softball player is twirling the diva around in the ice-cream parlor and her guard is _finally_ down. Finn actually feels as if he's intruding. When she speaks, her voice is soft and barely there.

"…She likes to dance…"

/

"Finn! Get it together! It's _not_ that hard! One step forward, one step back and then one to the side."

They've been at this for the last 15 minutes. The blonde's had her foot stomped on at least five times. Her patience has whittled down to next to nothing. Teaching the footballer how to dance was physically disastrous for her health. Partly she questions whether she can ever walk normally again. _Thank god there wasn't any softball training today. _The ex-captain had moved to rest on the piano stool whilst Finn stood self-consciously in the center of the stage. His shoulders dropped and his hands covered his face.

"You know this was easier at prom."

Quinn sighed, flexing and testing her foot.

"That's because it was so crowded that all you had do was sway in a circle."

The statement is short and straightforward. There was no intent to hurt but it did. The offhanded tone only served to showcase the footballer's deficiencies. There were two things that bothered Finn: his body and his dancing abilities. With a hunched posture, he stares despondently at his feet. The blonde feels some sympathy for him because he really does try. _It just wasn't good enough sometimes_. She attempts to move forward but stumbles on the second step from the sharp ache. Immediately, Finn's at her side concernedly holding her up. Quinn remembers his better qualities at this range. The softball player sees what she _used_ to see _and_ what she guessed Rachel always _saw_. She waves the footballer off.

"Just practice. And _don't,_ under pain of death let Berry lead. It's not… never mind, just… don't let it happen."

The blonde has made it to the piano and was now putting the sheet music away. She turns around briefly. Her green eyes hold Finn's attention. They were determined but closed off. The footballer wonders if that means anything.

"One last thing Hudson, do you know what to do for her birthday present?"

"Yeah, no worries Quinn. I've got that covered."

He smiles goofily. It's the one thing he _doesn't _need her help with. The footballer knows that it is only a matter of time before the blonde came to her senses and stopped helping. Finn wonders why she's even here now, because he _swears _she's changed. She's not quite the person that helped him in Nationals. Though, this time it didn't matter. It had taken 13 days and 12 nights, but he had come up with the perfect gift for Rachel. He was going to get it right. He would prove that he deserved her.

The blonde tilts her head curiously. She's about to say something but shakes it off. _She couldn't do this forever. _It's a thought that pops into her mind every day.But each time it does, there's less vigor and her internal voice is a little less firm. She walks past the boy, pausing when they're shoulder to shoulder. Her voice is strong but coarse as she stares at the exit.

"Be yourself, Finn."

There's a swallow… a faded smile… and _something else_.

"You're _everything_ Berry ever wanted."

/

It's a Thursday. That's one of her only thoughts as Quinn pushes herself to her usual booth. The ice-creamery's neon lights are harsh to her eyes. She had spent the better part of the night in the darkness of her small car, debating whether she should do this. Maybe she should have gotten Kurt to take over transport duties. The blonde wants to believe that she would have done so, if her heart muscles didn't do an uncomfortable twist at the thought. She hadn't held a proper conversation with the brunette since the Christmas party. Her mind has been divided between school, softball and helping Finn. Though it's pretty obvious that Rachel had somehow tainted other areas of her life. She was like a cancer. A very short bubbly _talented_ cancer…

A groan escaped her throat as Quinn leaned her head back. The patterns in the ceilings seemed to move for a moment. There's a pulsing in her skull. _It was late… ten fifty four to be exact._

"You did a good job today."

The brunette's voice comes out of nowhere. The softball player forces her eyes shut, breathing deeply. Her senses are so attuned that she knows exactly where the other girl is. So her head falls back forward, tiredly supported by her arm. The ex-captain looks like the perfect picture of boredom but her eyes tell a different story. It nearly imperceptible but her body leans slightly closer to the diva on the other side. Her free hand waves the compliment away.

"Yeah…Sorry for singling you out today. That wasn't supposed to happen."

Rachel shakes her head, smiling gently.

"No, it's alright. I was flattered."

Quinn snickers, looking away. What did she expect? She was talking to the person who _appreciated _the notion of being slapped. All the machinery and little gadgets in the shop temporarily distract the blonde. Rachel watches curiously. The blonde has been stiff and outlandish since the party. Despite the ex-cheerleader's annoyed assurances, the singer was starting to question the events of the night. For the life of her she _couldn't remember._ All she understands is that sleeping position has changed. Now she wakes up on the right side of her King sized bed, an arm always reaching out for something that _wasn't_ there. Sometimes she gets flashes of feelings that she's sure has nothing to do with her boyfriend. Her memories were always just a hairbreadth away; dissipating the moment she opened her eyes.

The peace in the frozen treats store has become heavy. The blonde is still avoiding eye contact.

"Why do you like vanilla so much Quinn? I mean from what I know and heard it's hardly the most interesting of all the flavors."

The question that slips out of the diva's mouth surprises them both. The softball player seems mildly amused as her arms cross and a well-crafted eyebrow goes up.

"A tad random, don't you think Berry?"

Rachel doesn't say much, shrugging her shoulders endearingly. They share a chuckle. It's the perfect tension breaker. Quinn runs her fingers through her short locks as she thinks about the question because hey, it was easier than everything else.

"I guess I like it because it's safe. It's simple and it won't change."

The brunette's features furrow adorably in thought.

"Have you even tried the others though?"

Quinn can't help but smirk. The diva was invested in everything but_ this_ was certainly entertaining. Rachel seemed to be genuinely confused by her dessert choices.

"Some, but not a lot. Why mess with a good thing, Berry?"

This seemed to spark the brunette's attention. Her head whips up and the answer is almost automatic.

"For the chance of something better…"

The blonde is taken aback by the serious reply. She shakes her head to herself. _They were talking about ice cream… Weren't they?_

"If I haven't had the _better___then – wait, you know what? What is wrong with me liking vanilla anyway?"

Quinn asks. She's so out of her element. The brunette tilts her head slightly to say.

"You're not the vanilla type, Quinn."

It's said in a casual and knowing tone. The blonde doesn't know whether to be thrilled or offended. Lights dance in the singer's brown eyes and the ex-cheerleader leans back. Rachel continues, completely unfazed.

"It's hardly fair to say one flavor is better than others when you haven't tried the others. In some ways it's actually a bit irresponsible."

She does a small nod at the end of the sentence as if to assess the correctness of her own words. Quinn refuses to let her self be charmed by the gesture. Instead she sighs exasperatedly, her hand goes to rub her forehead.

"Berry! We're talking about ice cream _not_ supreme court justice."

The singer huffs at the comment, standing up. Quinn watches the smaller girl move in front of her, a tan hand extended.

"Come on."

Rachel's eyes betray nothing. Whilst the blonde's green eyes are curious. It's a battle of the wills as both girls become rooted in their positions. The singer does a small eye roll. It looks strange on her.

"Relax Quinn, I'm not taking you out to the back to get executed."

"Who can tell …"

The ex-captain mutters under her breath as she moves out of the booth. She ignores the tan hand of help but doesn't miss the brief look of hurt that flashed on Rachel's face. The brunette, herself falters at the unexpected feeling. It was gone as soon as it came.

Rachel moves behind the divider to the serving side of the counter. Quinn pauses, thinking about a past experience. She's contemplating her options. Her eyes are full of mirth as she leans against the partition.

"I thought I couldn't be back there, Berry."

There's a glare and then the blonde is pulled forward past the threshold. Quinn isn't thinking about much except for the burning along her arm where the singer's hand had been. She nearly stumbles. _Get it together, Fabray._

When she looks up the brunette has already set out a series of cups each one containing a different type of ice cream. Quinn raises her eyebrow. Rachel is standing in front of her with a multi-colored flavor and a happy grin.

"You might as well try them all. You've been in here enough, Quinn."

The blonde doesn't say anything. Her eyes are boring into the singer's browns. Before she knows it her hand has taken the half-filled cup from the shorter girl's hand. She finally looks down. _Why was the concoction rainbow colored?_

/

There's a companionable silence. Quinn is on her fourth flavor and surprisingly it's actually good, not that the brunette would ever find out. If Berry found out that she might have been right she would be insufferable. The ex-cheerleader's legs swing against the counter she's managed to sit on. When she hears no noise coming from the diva she turns around. Rachel is leaning backwards on the other side of the enclosed space, eating _ice cream?_ The diva's pink tongue darts out to catch a drop of the frozen treat. Quinn finds she's not in complete control of her faculties as her mind is thrown back to the party. She remembers the _feel_ and the _taste_ of that powerful muscle moving with her own. Pale hands tightened around her paper-plastic cup. _Please stop. _

"You're eating ice-cream? Isn't that against your diet, Berry?"

Rachel looks up before she realizes the question, taking the green spoon from her mouth.

"Oh. I managed to convince Karl to include some vegan varieties considering the fact that there are quite a few of us living in Lima and it's the healthier option."

She seemed to think for a moment before speaking.

"Want to try Quinn? It's really quite good."

The blonde looked down at the proffered spoonful. The brunette had somehow taken a step closer and was now just in front of the ex-cheerleader. Instinctively, the softball player jerked backwards, cringing distastefully.

"No thank you. No cream and no milk. That's_ not_ ice-cream, Berry."

The other girl pouts, withdrawing the offer. She moves back to her old position, meters away. It affects Quinn more than it should. She feels a jump in her gut. A sharp breath is expelled. Placing her cup down she's heading towards the singer.

"Fine. Berry, give it over."

The brunette turns away.

"No. You said you don't want any. You shouldn't force yourself."

There's a frustrated groan coming from the blonde as she strides forward. _This was stupid._ Her hand goes out to reach for the spoon in the singer's hand.

"C'mon, don't be a pest, Berry."

Rachel bends back, trying to keep the utensil from the taller girl. Feint left. Turn right. It goes on for a while. Every time the blonde gets close the shorter girl would switch hands. Merriment dance behind both of their eyes and suddenly ice cream isn't the goal anymore. It's _fun_ and they both learn to loosen up. Squeals and laughs permeate the small brightly lit shop. In the background, it's soft but the radio seems to play Keane's Somewhere Only We know.

_And if you have a minute, why don't we go…_

Quinn takes advantage of the distraction and makes a lunge. The brunette lurches to the side. In two steps, the brunette pressed between the glass and the softball player. Quinn is so concentrated on plastic utensil that she doesn't notice. Her hips press forward as pale hands enclose around the prize.

_Talk about it somewhere only we know?_

A gasp escapes the shorter girl. Quinn freezes. Rachel's wide-eyed as her knees buckle. Without thinking, the blonde's arms settle around the shorter girl's waist. The other hand with the spoon braces itself on the glass behind. They're breathing heavily for different reasons. The playful air has all but disappeared. And Rachel thinks she just might _remember_. She's so sure she's been in this position before except in her memories there are hardwood floors behind her. There's a longing she can't express, as her body seems to be waiting for something. _Anything._

_This could be the end of everything…_

Quinn's scans the diva's expression. Anxiety spikes.

_So why don't we go? So why don't we go?_

Like magnets, they're leaning forwards.

_Somewhere only we know…somewhere only we know. _

The end of the song is like a wake up call, breaking the spell. The softball player pushes back, slipping the spoon into her mouth. The dessert melts in her heated mouth. The brunette seems to have returned to her self as well. Surprisingly, it's_ not_ awkward. Her curious follow Quinn's movements.

"Do you like it?"

A cringe makes its way onto the taller girl's expression.

"God Berry, that was disgusting."

Rachel scoffs grabbing another spoon for herself.

"You and my daddy are impossible."

Quinn raises her eyebrow amusedly, returning to her original cup. The only difference is that she's using the diva's spoon the rest of the night...

/

The blonde is sent home with a tub of ice cream that night. The container is white and unmarked, with strict instructions not to be opened until she was at home. Quinn had just dropped the singer off and was shouldering her way through the front door. She tried to be quiet, knowing that her mother was most probably asleep. Ever since her Judy had stopped the drinking her sleeping pattern seemed to return to normal as well. The ex-captain moved to the fridge.

Finally, she opened the lid to the box. Her breath caught in surprise. Inside was a solid mass of Rocky Road ice cream. She shakes her head. _How did Berry know? _Quinn leans back into the kitchen counter in disbelief. It was only then, that she noticed the black writing on the side of the container. _Permanent marker._

_You're beautiful Quinn. I see your true colors._

A smiley face followed the statement. The softball player shakes her head placing the dessert in the icebox.

She walks up the stairs to her room.

Once at the doorway, the blonde stares at the sketch on her wall. _Permanent marker. _Her hand traces the design lightly. If she closes her eyes she can almost _feel _the brunette in the same room. Hand over hers. Quinn tries not to think about the numerous times her mother's offered to get her room repainted. It's strange but the markings aren't obtrusive. In fact they looked like they belonged on the dark mahogany walls. It was one of the only things that indicated _a life_ actually lived here. Her eyes flicker to the carnival bear and then back to the wall. _Tonight_, like many other nights since the party, she couldn't do it; she would just climb into her bed. The can of paint and brush remain untouched by her desk.

Quinn hates that she _can't_ bring her self to get rid of it. She hates the fact that the lingering scent of the brunette _actually _helps her sleep better at night. She also hates that now she's wrapped a little more tightly around the teddy, come morning.

But most of all, Quinn hates the fact that she _doesn't _really hate it at all…

/

"Ok guys. Quiet down. This weeks project will be about getting to know others in the glee club. Several of you know each other very well but _not everyone_."

Mr Schue explained. There was a wave of discontentment in the room. Some of the members looked indignant whilst others were bored by the accusation. Santana flicked a strand of hair away in annoyance.

"Stop being dumb Mr Schue. We're a family and we've got each other's backs. Britts and I already know everything about each other."

The music teacher turned around, crossing his arms.

"See Santana, that's the problem. I have no doubt that you know Brittany, Puck and Quinn quite well, but tell me, what does Artie like doing in his spare time?"

The glasses wearing boy looked up at his mention. The Latina wore an unpleasant expression. She was still not entirely comfortable around the boy ever since the day he had called the blonde dancer stupid. She had to constantly fight the urge to give him a piece of her mind every time he stared longingly at Brittany.

"That's easy Wheels spends his time playing that electronic guitar and whatever the geeks do in the AV club."

Mr Schue stares disapprovingly at her reply. Artie shifted comfortably, looking at the members of the club. His voice is small.

"That's not true… those are the things I do in glee and at school. But what I really like doing, is building model planes and cars."

Santana rolls her eyes, falling back in her seat. Brittany runs her fingers along her arm comfortingly.

"See! Just like that and it's not only you Santana. Puck, what is Tina's dream job?"

Mr Schue turned to the disinterested footballer. Puck shifted in his seat, touching the back of his Mohawk. He leaned forward giving the quiet darkly dressed girl unsure glance. He's at a loss.

"Uh, something Asian, like a lawyer or a doctor."

Mike looks annoyed as he gives his girl an encouraging hug. He was so sick of the Asian comments. They were more than their culture. Tina stated in a quiet and unhappy voice.

"That's a stereotype."

Mr Schue nodded in agreement as he turned to write something on the bored.

"I've only just realized that all your interactions with other members in the group are selective. There are _still_ cliques and divisions within the glee club and that's _not_ what we're about."

The group seemed to accept the music teacher's point as they looked at each other. There were several shrugs as they settled in their seat. Once he had their attention Mr Schue continued.

"Guys, I'm going to pair you up and you're going to spend the rest of the week finding out things about each other to a deeper level. Each pair will come up with a song that represents the both of you."

Mr Schue ignored the groans of the class as he made his way to the paper her had written up.

"It will be as follows: Puck and Tina, Mercedes and Finn, Sam and Mike, Rachel and Quinn and I'm afraid Kurt, Brittany and Lauren will have to form a three person group."

Two voices jump out of the crowd.

"Mr Schue that's not going to work."

Quinn and Rachel stop for a second, sharing a glance. It's the first words they've spoken all lesson. Both were unusually engrossed by their own thoughts. Finn puts an arm around the diva trying to make her feel better. She barely notices the contact but she feels a loss when the blonde is the first to turn away looking towards the music teacher.

"I already know Berry."

The diva then intercepts before Mr Schue could rebut the comment.

"And I'm rather certain that I already understand everything about Quinn."

Mr Schue placed his head in his hands as he sighed tiredly. _Things were never easy. Maybe he should have invited Emma to this lesson._

"Girls I seriously doubt that. Quinn, you're not even on a first name basis with someone you've in the same club with for the last _two_ years. And Rachel, remember regionals, last year? You called Quinn, Barbie."

The diva pouted, crossing her arms in protest. Quinn massaged her temples before breathing in a deep breath.

"Just as me something about Berry."

Santana smirked as Brittany lifted her head curiously. The rest of the club seemed to be stirred by the challenge. Resigned, Mrs Schue ran his fingers through his hair.

"Alright if you insist Quinn. How does Rachel feel about slushies that go around in McKinley?"

There's a gasp. Nobody expected the normally laid back teacher to bring this up. Uncomfortable looks were shared between Puck, Finn and the other ex-cheerleaders. Sometimes it wasn't the past that hurt. All eyes are on the blonde curious, piercing, _thinking._ Quinn swallows; when she looks up her eyes are fierce despite her hunched position. Mr Schue unconsciously takes a step back. She holds his gaze.

"Berry hates them even when she doesn't say so… and she forgives when she shouldn't. She feels sorry for the people that throw them because she believes that they're just lost and have no idea who their real friends are."

Eyes widen and the silence is so loud. The honesty in the statement puts everyone off. A look of shock is permanently etched on Mr Schue's face. There's a surety in the softball player that changes the way a few of them view either girls. It's surreal because then, everything they understand about Rachel Berry is superficial. Santana has a sad look of understanding. Brittany leans over to give the tough Latina a hug. The diva herself is entirely too distracted by the stiffness in the other girl's frame and self-deprecating tone. It was painful to see Quinn behave in such a manner and the blonde won't make eye contact. She feels helpless. It's interesting because it isn't the taller girl's correct answer that surprises her.

"What was Rachel's biggest problem?"

Finn's voice interrupts. Kurt tilts his head. The last answer is still resounding in his head. It wasn't a guess. Quinn actually knew. _What did that mean? _Watching the blonde shake her head tiredly, he suspects that she had more secrets than anybody knew.

"Start of freshman year. She had trouble hitting A5 notes."

Rachel looked up sharply. This, she didn't expect. Nobody was supposed to know. As far as Finn or anybody else was concerned her biggest problem was the slightly irrational fear of losing her voice due to laryngitis. The diva thinks back to the incident the blonde spoke about. She had spent hours before, after and during school trying to get it right. Quinn ignored the footballer's confused look and met the brunette's gaze.

"Berry got it in the end, after a month of torture."

Quinn's pale hand moves up to rub the tension from her neck.

"Twilight or Harry Potter?"

Tina's small voice breaks in. It's an easy question, not particularly deep or important. Nobody knows the answer. Not even Finn.

"Harry Potter."

Tina tilts her head whilst Mike nods approvingly at the choice. There's a trace of a smile on the diva's face.

"Is that the one with the magic sticks and cute bald man?"

The tall dancer asks innocently from the back. Puck has a disgusted look on his face and Sam is trying hard not to laugh. Artie only looked adoringly at Brittany. _He missed her quirkiness. _Santana nodded in answer to her blonde counterpart; all the while she shared a disturbed look with her ex-captain. _Only their Brittany…_

"Football or softball?"

Sam asked curiously. During the course of the games he had often noticed the brunette watching or walking towards the softball mound. He never did have the heart to tell Finn. Something told the fake bottled blonde that it was something that needed to run its course. When he looked up he was met by Quinn's stare.

"Softball…"

Rachel looked away embarrassedly. She tried to avoid the slight look of hurt on Finn's face. Eventually she turned around to give the tall boy a hug and a chaste peck on the lips. This seemed to mollify the boy as her gaze trailed back to the blonde. Quinn had that same bored look that appeared oh so often. However, if Rachel looked carefully, the green eyes always told a different story.

"Who does the dwarf love?"

Silence. Quinn glared at the smirking Latina, refusing to answer. The truth? She _honestly didn't know anymore. _Neither did the brunette, if the ex-captain's deductions were correct. Rachel seemed to have adopted an awkward expression. Finn waited patiently expecting to hear his name.

"Isn't it obvious…?"

The blonde gestures vaguely, in the direction of the footballer. Her breath catches. Green eyes clashes with brown, like always. _Thump. _Quinn is biting her bottom lip. Rachel is wringing her hands. Neither actually notices, though. The footballer is wearing a simple grin on his face.

For once Santana feels sorry for the giant for he wasn't even _in _this game…

"Ok I have to ask. How do you know all that? Don't you guys hate each other? I've never seen you two speck for more that two minutes at a time."

Mercedes voice breaks through. There's a murmur of agreement at the blunt assessment. Rachel has her brows furrowed. Quinn doesn't _know _how to answer. Santana feels something resembling sympathy as she saves her friend from the question.

"Sue Sylvester's first rule of war. Know your enemy."

The two alpha girls share a nod. It's an understanding that only they share. They had always protected Brittany from it. They are entirely too aware of their constant duplicity. Now it's a fight between who they were and who they wanted to be. But Quinn was losing more of that image everyday. More and more of her new self had everything to do with the diva.

Rachel touches the softball player's arm as she turned to the group.

"I believe it's my turn."

"Quinn's favourite flower?"

Sam is the first to ask because he's genuinely curious. The kind blonde could never get this right when they had been dating.

"Gardenias."

The answer is straightforward and certain in the same knowing tone that the diva always held. The ex-captain's eyes widen. And her head whipped towards the very suddenly very uncomfortable giant behind her. _He didn't…_Finn held a contrite look on his face as he stared at his feet. Quinn closed her eyes, trying to take a calming breath. She wasn't very successful. She should have known. _It hadn't fit. _She could feel Rachel's curiosity and presence beside her.

"What are her feelings about Beth?"

The room quiets. Puck is guiltily hunched over. He's ashamed to ask the question this way but the blonde was like a stone wall. He didn't know what she felt and he was so sick of feeling alone in this. Every night the rebel of a footballer would sit in his room, remembering how his _daughter _had felt in his arms. The diva hesitates. She looks over at the still blonde. Quinn was clenching her jaw and glaring at the mohawked boy. Puck shrank into his seat. The ex-cheerleader felt a pang. He wasn't a Lima loser. _He would be a good father someday._ Her shoulders drop slightly and Rachel understands. _If this is communication…_She squeezes the taller girl's arm before making her way to the muscled footballer.

"Noah, Quinn's just as broken as you, if not more. Giving Beth away was the hardest thing she's ever done. But she _knew_ she couldn't be a mother and you were too young to be a father. She hurting too, trust me."

Her voice is so low that only Puck can hear. The diva gives the boy hug before moving back to her seat. The footballer's eyes are slightly red when he looks up. He and Quinn share a sad smile. He_ finally_ understands_. _Puck sees the broken Rachel had talked about. He wonder's how his fellow Jew discovered it.

"Quinn's favourite ice-cream?"

Brittany asks.

"Rocky Road."

The two girls smile, remembering the previous nights events. Quinn rolls her eyes at Santana's amused expression. The Latina had never been able to get the one out of the blonde.

"Current crush?"

Lauren pipes up. Her eyes are suspicious behind her glasses. While she had gotten over her prom rivalry with the blonde sometimes they still seemed to irritate each other. It probably had everything to do with Quinn history with her man. She would never admit it, but it was true. Rachel faces the blonde. Quinn tilts her head and her eyes are unreadable. The brunette takes a breath, a pause and then a swallow.

"Undecided…"

Quinn looks away. It's a lie...

"Wow! Ok girls I'm sorry for misjudging you. So how about we change it so that Kurt is paired with Quinn. Rachel, Brittany and Lauren can then form a group."

Mr Schue interrupts. He's as surprised as the other students but he's also proud to be proven wrong. Brittany claps ecstatically giving the small singer an exuberant hug. Quinn eyes meet the diva's with a small shrug.

/

The blonde yawns. It's the end of rehearsal. She had just spent the hour learning about Kurt. She now knew more about fashion than she ever wanted. She also realized how affected the gay teen _still _was by his father's health and the continued attacks by the redhead. Quinn let's out annoyed sigh making her way out the door. She barely gets a few meters away before she's slammed into the lockers.

"You need to get this! We're popular. We're more than them. People like _her."_

Kelsey sneered at the bewildered brunette who had just left the choir room. Rachel is about to move forward to help the blonde. It's reckless, instinctive and unnecessary. Santana comes out just in time to register the situation and make a grab for the stubborn diva. She shares a worried glance with her blonde captain as she turns to glare at the tall Cheerio. Kelsey is malicious and there is no sense of reason in her expression. Quinn tugs the collar of her cardigan back from the redhead's hands in disgust. Something flashes over the bully's face.

"I _used _to look up to you."

Quinn shakes her head at the comment. Her body is still and calm when the taller girl rushes forward again. The redhead's mouth is right next to the blonde's ear, but her voice is so loud that even Santana can hear.

"Tell the midget to watch her back because you just made things ten times worse for her."

The softball player is shoved back once again into the metal. Kelsey storms away. A small tan hand tries to assess her injuries and help her up.

"Quinn are you alright? I have some painkillers in my bag."

The question is ignored as the blonde shakes the hand off. She bends down to pick up her belongings from the floor. Quinn can feel the brunette's concerned eyes when she goes rub the sting from her shoulder. The ex-cheerleader turns around to face Rachel. Her voice is soft but firm.

"Don't worry about it, Berry. Her bark is worse than her bite…"

The diva nods, knowing that the other girl wanted to be alone. Quinn watches the brunette leave. A frown appears as a feeling of apprehension descends. Santana's presence is solid behind her. They _both _recognize the unhinged look in the redhead's eyes…

/

The next morning, Quinn walks through the halls. Her shoulder had developed a bruise from the impact of the lockers the day before. To say that she was annoyed would be an understatement. But whatever she was feeling, it was nothing compared to the feelings that accompanied the sight before her. Slapped on every notice board and every free inch of space on the halls was one of Rachel's many yearbook photos, photography club, Renaissance club… and glee club. All were defaced with mustaches, genitals and blackened teeth. The word _ugly _was the main feature under every poster and the diva's locker. Quinn's fists whiten and her jaw clenches. Her stomach feels like lead and she's winded as if someone has punched her in the solar plexus. She's never been this angry before that she can barely function. The blonde walks to her locker and violently shoving her books in. Santana and Brittany appear at her side.

"Kelsey's gone bat shit crazy. That bitch needs to be put down."

The Latina's hand is twitching and the rage is genuine. No matter what glee club was a family and picking on its members was not ok. Brittany looks forlorn and disappointed. Her voice gets both their attention.

"This is wrong. Rachel's not ugly. She kind of short but she's cute. She's like a cool little leprechaun I met when I was seven."

Santana gives the tall dancer a hug. Quinn takes a second look at the hallways.

"Where are Puck and Finn?"

"I can't find them anywhere, Q."

The Latina is frustrated. Ever since she saw the posters she had been searching for the boys to no avail. They would need Puck's help to bring Kelsey down and Finn should be there to comfort his girlfriend. She found nothing. Quinn shook her head. They didn't have time to think about the two boys. She just made a mental note to murder the dim giant later.

"Ok. Let's get some of the footballers to start take some of the posters down. We can't do much about Berry's locker but we can get rid of the oth –"

"Uh. Too late Q."

Santana swore in Spanish, staring pointedly behind the ex-captain. Quinn turned around. On the other end of the hallway was Rachel Berry. The brunette has dropped her textbooks like hot coals, her arms landing limply by her side. All traces of a smile, of an expression disappeared. Laughing and snickering reverberates through the walls of McKinley. Students jeer as they snap pictures on their cell phones. It's just another big show. They're just happy it's not them. The ex-captain doesn't need to be close to the singer to watch her bounce and confidence disintegrate. However, it would be the eyes that would haunt Quinn. There was so much hurt. The softball player was paralyzed by it. Rachel held the blonde's green orbs for a second more before turning and running. Brittany just looks sad.

Quinn doesn't quite feel much anymore. It's like her mind isn't here. The words are emotionless as they leak from her mouth. Her friends try not to flinch, it was always hard to watch the blonde regress but this time neither could fault her.

"Brittany, go comfort Berry. Santana, find Kelsey. I'm done… Her three chances are over."

/

By the middle of the day, Quinn is seething. She can't find Kelsey. She can't find Finn or Puck. She _can't _find Rachel anywhere. The blonde won't confess her concern but she's spent the better part of the day taking down every poster she encountered. The softball player has been snapping at everyone who dared to chuckle or comment. McKinley is afraid to be on her warpath. Mr Schue and Ms Pilsbury have gone to principal Figgins' office. They had been in there for hours.

Quinn grunts, trying to roll the tension from her frame. She runs through McKinley in her mind. It's a small enough school; there weren't that many places to hide. _Where in the world was Berry? _A thought strikes her mind and she goes to the one place she's sure of. Second floor. Girls' bathroom. When she's at the door she can hear the diva's heavy breathing on the other side. The blonde places a hand on the locked entrance.

"Berry… Rachel, open the door."

There is a silence and then the sound of shuffling. _Click. _Quinn breathes deeply, moving into the bathroom. It's a similar scene. Rachel is sitting on the changing bench with her legs brought up and tucked under her chin. Her eyes are slightly red and used tissues are scattered along the floor, some are stuck to the mirrors making them useless. A wave of sadness and regret appears and the blonde never hated herself so much. It's quite possible that she started this a long time ago. Quinn moves towards the girl. She kneels down. trying to catch her gaze. Pale hands go to hold the diva's. The taller girl opens her mouth to say something but is interrupted. Santana's voice sounds out impatiently from the outside the bathroom.

"Q! I found Kelsey."

The softball player stands up dragging the singer with her. She pauses giving the other girl some time to catch her breath. Rachel lets out a small nod. Quinn wants to say something but stops, instead leading the way. She doesn't let go of the diva's hand until they're out in the hallway again. Even then, it's actually Rachel who slips her hand out. Once again, she didn't know whom she was protecting by this action. They make their way to the crowd.

Rachel watches the softball player change with each step: the straightening of the posture, squaring of the jaw and hardening of the eyes. It was always distressing to see, for this version of the blonde had very little control. _Quinn Fabray was mean_._ Quinn Fabray didn't care about Rachel Berry…_

The ex-cheerleader stepped forward. In the center of the crowd Santana and Dave Karofsky had Kelsey and her cronies cornered. The redhead looked alarmed, finally registering the blonde. There was no sympathy, no _anything _in Quinn's eyes as she strode forward. Fear runs through her being. The older girl had more people on her side. In this confrontation it was obvious who was the minority. Her pulse speeds, as she starts to perspire.

Quinn turns to the crowd. Her voice commands the school.

"People who have helped Kelsey in any way in the past should admit it now. Step up, because I _will _find you."

Nate and a few others scuffle forward. Their heads are bowed and they are worried. It's obvious that Kelsey wasn't in any place to protect them. The young footballer was starting to see the girl Azimio told horror tales about. Quinn points in the direction of the others. She then moves to address the crowd once more.

"Anybody who has been slushied by any of these people, stand in lines in front of your attacker."

Loud murmuring fills the hall and people emerge and follow the orders. Half are worried, most are curious. Sue Sylvester comes out of her office at the noise. She takes a quick scan of the situation and crosses her arms. Mentally she's doing risk assessments until she see's her softball captain in the center. Their eyes meet and the older woman is taken aback by the determination she sees. Yes, Quinn really did remind her of a young Sue Sylvester. The coach checks her watch, standing by her office doorway. She could see into Figgins' office where Will butt-chin Schuester and OCD Bambi were still arguing with the useless principal. _S_he's always hated bullies for what they had done against her sister.

"Good. Santana is going to give each of you a cup of slushie. You should go for it."

The blonde orders. The student's look to each other, waiting for someone to make the first throw. Rachel looks on worriedly. Her focus is on the blonde, she need's to make sure Quinn doesn't do anything she can't come back from. An acne covered freshman steps forwards swinging his cup. The corn syrup lands on Kelsey's face. It's a catalyst. Soon everyone is having their go and bits of coloured ice flies off the walls. This attracts the attention of those inside Figgins' office but by then, Sue has already moved in front of the glass door, locking it from the outside. _Don't ask her how._

The onslaught eventually finishes, tapering off. Quinn walks to Kelsey. The redhead is drenched from head to toe. The hard shell of the Cheerio's uniform didn't provide much protection. Quinn remembered that fact quite well.

"So, how does it feel? Good because you put others through it everyday? I got sick after my first slushie…couldn't stop crying from the corn syrup. The glee kids cleaned me up. Tell me, who's going to help you?"

Sue watches from her position. There was a very vague possibility that she was … dare she say…proud? Her softball captain fills another slushie cup, this time handing it the diva. Rachel shakes her head, looking up to meet the blonde's gaze.

"I won't slushie anybody, Quinn."

The softball player smiles sadly.

"You will, but not Kelsey. I slushied you freshman year, February 2006, because you, Rachel Berry had the supposed nerve try and help me with my math."

Santana watches silently from her position. She remembered the aftermath of the blonde's first attack. Quinn couldn't leave her spot on the floor, drowning in regret and self-loathing. The room is silent as Rachel shakes her head furiously, unconsciously backing away. The blonde is faster. In just one step she's in front of the singer. The diva is so caught off guard that she doesn't notice the blonde's hand until it covers hers, holding the cup. Green meets brown. The shorter girl is whispering.

"I don't hate you. I don't blame you. Please don't do this Quinn."

The taller girl doesn't say a word. She clasps the brunette's hand and swings.

Splash! The crowd is shocked to disbelief by the gesture. The frozen blue liquid slides off her head and down neck. It works its way into her dress and she has to fight a shiver. Rachel is frozen in shock as she stares at the empty cup in her hands. Her eyes are glassy and sad. _But I forgave you a long time ago…_The blonde finally feels absolved.

Santana pushes off from her spot, giving Brittany a light hug. The Latina whispers something in the dancer's ear causing her to smile. With that, she hands a cup of frozen corn syrup to a mousy looking girl she's slushied in the past. Santana and Quinn share a nod. The blonde speaks with everyone's attention.

"I am not exempt and neither is Santana. We're not better than you because we wear lettermans and participate in certain clubs."

The two girls stand next to each other. Sue smiles. It's crooked and looks slightly painful but it's a smile nonetheless.

"So if we've done this to you in the past. Step up. Take your shot. Because this _won't_ happen again."

Nothing. No movement at all. The students are in awe. Sue takes that moment to intervene, cutting through the mob.

"Alright you ingrates, lunch is over. If I see another one of you in the halls when you should be in class you _will_ get sent to Figgins' office. Q, get your disgusting dripping self to the showers. You're creating a stink in my school!"

/

It's been a couple of days since the event and McKinley has changed. The crowds still part for the trio but it's for an entirely different reason. Quinn has to roll her eyes a little because at the end of the day there was still a hierarchy. The only difference was that people felt better about this one. Kelsey had seemingly disappeared of the face of the earth but her cronies were still present. Their heads were always bowed when they walked past.

The ex-captain sighed moving along the stage of the auditorium. Santana was on the piano stool trying to teach Brittany a simple song. They were having fun. The tall dancer's giggles permeated the theatre room. It was an uplifting sound, light and comforting compared to the recent happenings. Quinn hasn't spoken much to the brunette, not that she tried all that much. Their eyes would meet and they would both think they saw _something _in the other girl. They always turned away.

"Q! Stop it you're gonna wear a hole through the floor and then Berry will have to kill us."

Santana yelled. She didn't look up and she didn't need to. The sound alone was starting to grate on her nerves. Quinn rolled her eyes sitting down on a makeshift prop. Rachel should have been here already. The blonde had slipped an invitation to the auditorium for the afternoon. The diva's face still haunted her, the moment where the singer's face crumpled at the defaced pictures and word on her locker. The softball player felt an inexplicable need to make it better. She sighed. Finn was the one that was supposed to do this but she hadn't been able to find him either.

"You know that you can't hide behind Finnocence for this one, right? Q?"

Santana's eyes pierce through her friend. Quinn moves her hand along the top of the grand piano and looks to the door of the auditorium. Her expression is unsure and distant. The words she speaks are slow and quiet.

"For this, I don't have to…"

At this moment, she can make out the form of a short diva entering. Rachel was walking very cautiously; her eyes hadn't quite adjusted to the new lighting.

"Ok, I don't know who you are but I should warn you I have a mace and a rape whistle. I'm not afraid to use it. Jacob, this better not be you!"

Santana is snickering whilst Quinn shakes her head. Brittany walks over to the light switch, turning the dimmer off. The room is almost instantly brightened. Rachel stands confused. The tall blonde dancer hops down from the stage to drag the singer to a seat in the first row. The diva looks around in confusion. She sees Quinn first, like always, but forces her gaze away. Then the singer stares at the Latina on the piano stool. The fiery ex-cheerleader smirks.

"Yeah. I gots skills on the piano, hobbit. Granted not to Q's level but then again who is."

The beginning chords of a song start from her fingertips. Brittany dances fluidly around the instruement. Quinn steps off the stage moving in front of the brunette. Her voice is slightly husky but she manages to hold the seated girl's gaze.

If you're ugly, I'm ugly too

That other girl she don't have a clue

If you could see yourself like others do

You'd wish you were as beautiful as you

She moves forward, tucking a stray strand back behind the singer's air. Quinn smiles softly and her eyes are clear, _honest. _If it was one thing that Finn had been right about it was that Rachel didn't need to change. The blonde didn't know it but she didn't want the shorter girl to either. But she believed in getting what you wanted and doing whatever it took to feel better about yourself. In that plastic surgeon's office, the ex-cheerleader was doing what she thought the singer wanted. _A Fabray nose._ Her fingers grazed the brunette's cheek as it left. A blush appeared on the diva's face and neck. Quinn felt her heart quicken and her body heat up. She moved back a few steps, singing the next line.

And I wish I was a camera sometimes

Her thumbs and index fingers formed a viewfinder as she playfully pivoted around to fit Rachel's face. The brunette couldn't stop the grin that was forming. Her chest felt like it would _burst_. She was riveted by the softball player's sincerity.

So, I could take your picture with my mind

Flash. Flash. Flash. Brittany snapped happily in repetition. In her hands was a black Polaroid camera. Quinn walked to retrieve the pictures, waiting for it to appear.

Put it in a frame for you to see

She then walked back to the brunette, slipping the snapshots into her hands with a light squeeze. Her voice was certain and her eyes unwavering. The words fall effortlessly from her lips. Rachel _can't _look away.

How beautiful you really are to me

Santana and Brittany's voices filtered in with the chorus. And Quinn tugged the singer out of her seat. The pictures drop from her hands. The blonde sways the singer's arms to the beat and twirls her around. They're both not quite aware of their surroundings anymore.

Ugly, Ugly

All of us just feel like that somedays

Ain't no rainbow in the sky

When you feel U.G.L.Y.

And that's ugly, yeah, yeah, yeah

When Rachel is finally in her seat again, she's _breathless._ And she's a trained vocalist! She can't stop the laughter. Her eyes fall on the photos that the tall dancer had taken. The diva gasped. She swears that it not her. It _can't_ be...

Ugly, Ugly

All of us just feel like that somedays

Ain't no rainbow in the sky

When you feel U.G.L.Y.

And that's ugly, ugly

All of us just feel like that somedays

Ain't no cure that you can buy

When you feel U.G.L.Y.

And that's ugly

In the images, there was a girl with dark brown hair. Her eyes were glittering with a kind of wide-eyed innocence and awe. There was a faint tinge of pink in her cheeks. Her bottom lip dropped slightly in surprise. _She _was beautiful…

Quinn's voice filtered through her haze. The blonde was kneeling in front of her. She held the singer's hand in hers. Brittany and Santana watched from the piano.

So, if you're ugly, I'm ugly too

_Pause._ Rachel looked away. It was too much. She didn't understand her feelings around the blonde. She fears she never will.

If you're a nut, then I must be a screw

_Pause._ Quinn uses her hand to turn the singer's head back. They're facing each other once more.

If you could see yourself the way I do

_Pause. _The diva chokes a little, looking down to her lap where their hands a joined. So much conviction…

You'd wish you were as beautiful as you

The softball player squeezes the shorter girl's hand once more before moving back. She lifts herself so that she's sitting on the stage ledge. There's not that much of a distance between the front row and the start of the stage but it's enough. It gives them a faint sense of control. They both look up. A tear slides down both their faces.

_I wish I was as beautiful as you…_

/

Yaya that my friends, is the end of Kelsey. Awww I love protective Quinn even if she still doesn't quite grasp her own motivations. The song is ugly by Bon Jovi I edited the second line to fit the story and since Rachel does not have blue eyes. XD Thoughts, comments, hate mail? Let me know :)


	10. Chapter 10 Happy Birthday

**Chapter 10 – Happy Birthday**

OK The boy's absence last chapter will be explained here. Oh special shout out to my new proofreader, gleefan88 who has hopefully made my ramblings more understandable and less painful to read.

/

"Hey, you've reached Finn's phone. Uh… I can't catch your call right now but leave a message. Wait! What the? Puck! Beep."

Quinn rolled eyes at the voice mail, her irritation only rising. The two footballers had been absent for the past week, with their impromptu vacation alarming _even_ their parents. The blonde already had to field calls from the mother's of _both_ boys, which is saying a lot considering the fact that they didn't particularly warm up to her after the baby incident. Her headache was coming back. Today was the diva's birthday. Rachel was turning eighteen... _Where the heck was Finn?_

Rubbing her forehead, it occurs to the ex-cheerleader that she might be reaching her limit. Funnily enough, before Rachel, she didn't know she had one. After the Kelsey saga, the brunette had doubled her efforts on trying to talk to the blonde. Quinn's resolve was crumbling. She wasn't sure if refusing the offers was the _right _thing to do, anymore. It was like swimming against the current. And she was drowning. The softball player was starting to feel as if her random moments with the singer _had _an impact, _had _meaning, past the here and now. In those intervals, she had _clarity_. But, did that really meananything_?_ The only thing grounding her was Rachel and Finn. They are the _endgame, _always were.

One. Last. Job. And she would be good, _free_. There wouldn't be any feelings to be deal with, no confusion…

Her phone rings loudly, breaking through her thoughts.

"Hello?"

Static. There's so much that it hurts her ears. The blonde holds the thin piece of technology closer to her ear, trying to discern the caller. A voice eventually emerged from the noisy background.

"Quinn! So…glad …caught you. Puck…I…carnival…present…"

_Finn. _The softball player narrowed her eyes. She could barely make out the words through the connection.

"Hudson, I can't hear you! Just get back here. It's Berry's birthday today."

Static. She grunted in frustration, moving her books in her arms in an annoyed fashion. The ex-captain was beginning to garner glances from other students. _Perfect. _She turned away to face her locker. Finn's apologetic tone comes through the speaker.

"Sorry…going to…late…can you…set up…please?"

Suddenly, there are no more sounds. The softball player turns around to hiss.

"_Finn!" _

There's nothing but a dial tone. Quinn stares at the useless plastic in her hand. Frustration doesn't creep – it _washes_ over her. _So much for distance..._There's a decision to make. Her fingers shakily tap against the lockers as the ex-cheerleader closes her eyes.

Right versus wrong. Want versus need. Staying versus leaving.

In the end it doesn't really matter because Quinn can see the singer in her mind's eye. She doesn't need to be around the girl to _know_ that this morning, Rachel had woken up with a bounce in her step and a brilliant wide smile on her face. She didn't need to_ see_, to imagine the hope behind those brown orbs throughout the day. It was just something she knew.

So, in the end, the choice isn't _actually_ hers. Choosing implies an acceptable alternative. There was _none_, at least nothing that the softball player was willing to explore. The blonde slips an invitation into the diva's locker. At one point she begins to wonder how it got to this, when caring had become as natural as breathing. She wants to blame Finn. Her hand traces the lingering word on the metal. _Ugly_. Since the incident, the spray paint has washed out considerably, but you could still see the print if you knew it was there. It was _so far_ from the truth. Quinn leans her forehead against the locker that wasn't hers. It's calming in a way. She is absent for the rest of the day.

The brunette would get her prince charming_. _That was something, she could control…

/

Later that night, Rachel is trying on various outfits for her date with Finn. She didn't know what to expect. Black dress and red pumps? Or Plaid skirt and a pink cardigan? The footballer had always enjoyed the wholesome look. Earlier the singer had opened her locker to find a note from her boyfriend in his messy scrawl.

"_Happy Birthday Rach. Meet me at the Thai Palace at 7."_

It was strange, really. She hadn't seen the boy for more than a week. The brunette feels a little guilty because Finn's disappearance wasn't a problem when it _should've _been. She should have been distraught. The Rachel of the past would have overwhelmed the footballer's answering machine with messages. But she's not that girl anymore. There's a myriad of thoughts racing through her mind. Somehow her focus seem to settle on the softball player; questions, thoughts, _feelings _that she couldn't explain_. _The slip-ups happened when she was still. So Rachel Berry didn't _become_ still. In the past few days she's busier than she's ever been, in an effort to adapt, forget. It's a forced action because when she's around Quinn, control becomes an issue. The air is thinner and it's like… _magnets_.

Her fathers notice the change. They're worried because Rachel Barbra Berry had always known _exactly_ what she felt. Their little diva had been in love with Finn Hudson since freshman year.

But, Hiram and Leroy Berry also recognize that their daughter _never_ used to wear a letterman jacket, too small to be her boyfriend's, to sleep. And she's certainly never only resided on _one_ side of the bed. They're concerned by the slight disappointment in her eyes every time she wakes up. She's alwaysmissing something that was never there…

/

On the other side of town, Quinn is directing a set of waiters around. Over the course of the day, they had managed to clear most of the usual tables away to create a makeshift dance floor. It was by no means grand or lavish but it was enough. The room has a romantic atmosphere as a lone pink lily decorated the center booth. To anyone else it would have seemed like the person had placed very little effort. _To anyone else…_

Electric lanterns were lowered instead of the usual florescent lights, casting an orange glow. The open karaoke stage had been transformed into a spot for the house band. On it, there was a light wooden piano. It was old. Quinn wondered how many stories it held and whether _this moment, _tonight would be one of them.

"Hey, blondie? Could you come out back? I need help plugging the guitars to the speakers and Mike needs to know the composition for the song you want played."

A voice called from her left. The softball player shook her head, moving to assist the struggling waiter. She gave the instrument on last pat. It would serve its purpose. When she reached the problem, all she could see was a mess of wires. A sheepish young man with jet-black hair had random points of cable wrapped around his arm and torso. On his nametag was the name Matt. The blonde remembered this waiter; he had been more helpful than anyone else. It would be easy for someone to dismiss him due to his silly grin but Quinn could see past that. In his eyes was understanding that only came through a fractured past. _Kindred spirits._ She took the plug from his hand.

"Okay, so you place the green line to the hole with the grooves and then do a twist since your wires are a little frayed."

There was a mild screech before the systems stabilized and the connection was set. Matt's shoulders drop in relief. He was afraid he had broken it. Then it would be taken out of his paycheck. The part time worker watched as the blonde made her way back to the piano. He had been watching her all day. The softball player seemed to alternate between blind determination and _something else. _He thinks he sees indecision, _regret_ but it's gone as soon as it comes. His eyes stray to the loose leafs of sheet music.

"It's a good song, you know."

Quinn looked up in surprise, taking her fingers off the keys. She had almost forgotten that there was someone else in the room. The waiter's eyes seem to glitter at her discomfort, so she glared. She's the HBIC; it's a useless defense. Matt held his hands in mock surrender.

"Hey it's a compliment you should take it as one. I mean it's got a slow beat which is perfect for dancing but it's kind of depressing don't you think? This is for a date night right?"

The blonde ignored the question, instead asking one of her own. Her eyebrow was raised.

"You know how to play?"

With a chuckle and a shake of his head, Matt sat next to the girl on the piano stool. Quinn shifted away in annoyance. She seemed to do that a lot lately, move _away_ from contact. The ex-cheerleader swore that she could still feel the singer, hands clasped in hers, squeezing her shoulder and tending to her injuries: _always never quite alone._

…But, she wished that she were, because then she wouldn't have to feel like this_. _

Soft music started to play. The young man's hands are surprisingly nimble as they dance across the keys. The ex-captain recognizes her own song. The soft start, the slow bridge, the strong chorus. It hit a chord in the girl as something hardened within her. Her fists clenched unknowingly whilst Matt simply observed.

"You must really love this person."

He pauses, facing the girl. Gone was his goofy persona, replaced by something a little more serious. It's still gentle, though. The blonde rolls her eyes, taking over the instrument, her fingers move across the keys with a practiced ease. The song once again fills the room. After a while, her response is slow and measured.

"No… I don't."

It's a simple answer to a complex question. No justification and no excuses are attached. There are a million things to say but they both keep silent. The song continues except Quinn's more focused this time. The notes are more deliberate. She swallows. A shadow is casted in her green eyes. Sighing, Matt ran his hand through his hair. She was so much like his younger self. _Blind._ And she'll probably make the same mistakes. _Get hurt. Lose faith. _Eventually, he speaks.

"You're lying, you know. Either to me or to yourself."

Abruptly, the music stops. Quinn looks up. Her eyes hold his. There's a clang coming from the kitchen and it breaks the stare. Reverently, she closes the lid to the piano. She's looking at a spot in the wall when the words slip out of her mouth.

"I _can't_ say yes…"

"Why?"

A sad smile makes its way to her face. The heartbreaking part is that it looks like it belongs there. She moves off the stage and Matt wonders who at this age could cause such pain and confusion. There's a whisper that he has to strain to hear her.

"Because someone once told me that love doesn't let us down..."

/

An hour passes.

Quinn is behind the stage, fiddling with the connections when Rachel enters. _Whoosh._ The draft from outside blows in, stealing the air from her lungs. It's hardly fair. She _can't _move...but she can see. The singer is wearing a strapless dress that does _everything _to accentuate her figure. The top half is a light tan coloured corset, drawing attention to the diva's chest. The softball player swallowed reflexively. _When did her mouth get so dry? _Her attention drifts lower. The bottom part was light pink, just falling short of the knees, exposing the brunette's long legs. For a second the blonde forgets the events of the day, the colour of her car and _her last name_.

_If you're ugly then I'm ugly too. If you're a nut then I must be a screw…_

She loses her balance. The quickening of her heart isn't something that she can control.

In contrast, Rachel stood by the entrance, looking around curiously. Her vision lands on the center booth. She feels her eyes water. There's _one pink lily... _And somehow, it means_ everything._ She's rooted to her spot as a something rises from within her, pressing against her lungs and heart. The brunette can't quite speak or breathe. _Finn did this?_

At this moment Matt stumbled into the room. In his arms was a take out box with food. He had instructed the chefs to make something for the determined pianist. Quinn hadn't eaten all day. He notices the heavy atmosphere in the room. There's a surprised brunette by the door. The lanky boy has to admit that she wasn't as pretty as the blonde, but there was something in her personality that held your attention. Her hands were wringing behind her back. The waiter knows that the action is unconscious. There's a look of happiness in her eyes but it's coupled by a sense of _despair_. And he wonders if she knows.

His attention then switches to the softball player behind the stage. Her arms are crossed and she's motionless against the back wall. She doesn't hide because she's Quinn Fabray and the musical equipment partially obscures her presence. Matt followed her focused attention ahead. Her green eyes traced the shorter girl's features and a small smile tugged her lips. The ex-captain's frame is so rigid and there's so much _restraint_ behind her expression. Everything in her stance suggests that she's caught in the fight or flight response. But, everything in her eyes told him that she was content where she was, just _looking._ The blonde's words echo in his mind _Love doesn't let us down. _A stab of sorrow emerges in his gut, he couldn't fathom_ whom_ she was afraid to disappoint in this scenario…

It takes minutes but finally he realizes his place. The waiter drops the takeout containers on a shelf and strides over to the brunette.

"Hello, my name is Matt, I'll be your waiter this evening. Your other party hasn't arrived yet but allow me to take you to your seat."

Surprised, a blush crawls across her face. Rachel wonders how long he's been there. Her mind is fixated on the feelings jumping across her spine from the moment she set foot into the establishment. It's thrilling but familiar. She doesn't quite understand, casting one last glance around the room. _What was she looking for?_ Instead of dwelling, the brunette graciously slips her hand into the waiter's letting him lead her to the center table. The focus and interest in his eye is a little disarming, but she's instantly comfortable around him. He reminds her of _someone_…of _safety…_

/

Another hour passes and nothing has changed. Finn is still not there. Quinn is still behind the stage. She's been there every moment, watching as the singer's shoulders started to drop, as Rachel's smile morphed from genuine happiness to some kind of forced bravery. Her eyes have dulled a little, as she sat in the booth touching the lily. If the footballer had gone through all this trouble, she would wait. _He was what she wanted..._ The diva's just not sure when that stopped being an implicit truth and turned into a mantra.When did that simple fact, become something she had to convince herself of at night? There's a low hum of machinery in the restaurant as time passes.

Brrrrrn!

The blonde's phone vibrates. Quinn looks down reading the message. Her face is stormy and her jaw tightens.

_Quinn, I'm nearly there I swear. Can you keep Rach company? Please, she shouldn't be alone on her birthday. I'm nearly there. – Finn _

Her fists clench. Breaths become a little bit shorter. _She shouldn't be alone on her birthday. _Then why wasn't the footballer _here?_ Quinn wasn't their babysitter. This wasn't her responsibility. She didn't want to _watch, _anymore. The taller girl casts a glance at the girl in the booth. Rachel's back was slightly hunched as she continued to look around. She's still hopeful that Finn will appear. Quinn swallows the lump in her throat. The scene is unhappy and it's not how the blonde had planned it. Being here, seeing the changes in the shorter girl as she realized that her prince _still_ wasn't here. It hurt a lot more than the softball player would admit. She thinks that she needs space.

No, it wasn't supposed to be like this. Rachel wasn't supposed to mean anything to her_. I don't care_… the thought crawls into her mind. It's also a lie. And for once, Quinn wonders how many she's told.

"Talk to her."

Matt sounds out from behind. He's wiping the equipment down. The blonde doesn't say anything. Her attention is completely on the dejected singer. She feels a hand on her arm and looks up. The waiter's expression is somber as he nods his head slightly in the direction.

"I think she's already been let down enough tonight, don't you?"

_Yes... _

But, Quinn just shrugs his hand away. A glassy look overtakes her green eyes and her arms are crossed. Her voice comes out as a soft mutter.

"That's not my problem…"

An exasperated sigh escapes Matt. The waiter is impatient as he goes to grab the take out boxes, handing it to the girl. It's a wake-up call.

"Then here, this your way out. Go. She's not looking at the door right now."

His expectant stare bores through the blonde. She takes a deep breath looking down at the Styrofoam container in her hands. It's a split-second decision that she'd rather not review. For the first time in a while Quinn remembers her self-preservation instincts. Her fingers tighten around the food. I _don't _care… She manages to make it to the door. The ex-cheerleader's hand is actually on the handle, when a soft voice comes from her left.

"Quinn?"

One word and the blonde's body refuses to move. She doesn't _breathe. _It's completely involuntary. It's also a battle that she's already lost. Green eyes meet brown. _Something_ flashes across the diva's face as she tilts her head. They're both afraid to give it a name. Rachel's more energetic than she's been all night, life flooding her eyes once more.

"What are you doing here?"

"Getting some food. Mom had a craving for pad Thai."

Quinn lifts the box of food for show. It's a hollow gesture.

"Oh…"

The response is so soft that the ex-cheerleader falters. The brunette's smile dims as she nods slowly. Her frame starts to retreat again. There's an ache that she actually has to squash when she thinks about the blonde leaving. Her presence exuded safety and her parting caused pain. There was no logic to it. Rachel looked away. She's facing the table again and folding napkins. A whisper falls from her lips.

"Goodnight Quinn."

The finality in the statement jarred both girls. It's confronting in itself as thoughts of being alone enter both of their minds. The blonde tries to ignore it, pulling the door open. She doesn't walk through. The cold air ghosts across her face. Its calms the heat she feels under her skin. She was hesitating.

Rachel closes her eyes shivering her seat. She hears the door close and feels a stab in her gut. Her face falls into her hands as she takes a staggering breath. Suddenly the room seemed harsher. It feels like years have passed when the brunette finally opens her eyes.

Brown meets green.

Quinn is sitting on the other side of the booth. Her expression is unreadable as her fingers play an invisible song on the table. The relief that Rachel feel is overpowering and she can't comprehend_ why_? She can feel her heart fluttering in her ribcage as she shifts in her seat. Unconsciously, she's leaning forward. Without a word, the ex-captain takes the abused napkin from her hand. Their hands graze on the way. The singer gasps and Quinn's freezes. The girl's both look up but they don't say anything. They don't need to. It's a silence that's completely theirs, comforting and familiar. Some minutes pass.

"Happy Birthday Berry."

The blonde's voice comes out, low and raspy. When Rachel looks down, there's a folded star placed in front of her. It was made from the restaurant's brown napkins. The diva's throat thickens as she moves her hands towards the creation. She's afraid to touch it. The singer's afraid that if she does something, this star, like this moment will fall apart.

After a while, her fingers inch closer, finally brushing along the objects edges. The brunette can feel the ex-cheerleader's gaze. A pause is taken and her hands go to hold it up. Surprisingly, it _doesn't_ break…

She swallows. A smile appears. The spines of the object stick out chaotically much like Quinn's hair.

"Thanky – "

Rachel doesn't get to finish her sentence, as the room is suddenly dark. Outside the screeches of cars can be heard as people slammed on their emergency brakes. There's a commotion in the kitchen as pots and pans are dropped. Swearing can be heard. The brunette feels herself start to panic and her breathing quickens. She had never been a fan of the dark. It was an irrational fear from childhood. Her therapist said that it had something to do with the lack of a mother figure. However, her therapist also thought that she held some kind of resentment towards her fathers, so the diva didn't place much stock in it. Regardless, it didn't stop the anxiety that seeped in. Her pulse was racing. Instinctively, she searched the table, meeting a warm soft limb. There's deep measured breathing in the background. It's reassuring. The singer can't see but it's like she _knows._ Her hands slowly traced the limb to the palm; she was mapping the shape, the slight bump of the veins and the smoothness of the skin. The hand was upturned, open, expectant. Rachel slipped hers on top and Quinn squeezed in response. The singer feels the tension drain away. Her muscles relax and she's _there again_.

"Thank you."

It's pitch black but the brunette knows that the blonde has shrugged in response. The movement triggered a small shift in their hands, causing Rachel to unconsciously grasp tighter. A curious thought comes to mind.

"You knew…"

There's a sigh.

"That's not a question, Berry."

Quinn's voice is light and slightly mocking. It's another constant that they both hold on to. They don't need it to feel relaxed but they _do _need it to remind them of who they are and how they _should _be. That's something that they forget all too often. The brunette tilts her head.

"Why didn't you use that against me? It certainly would have been more effective."

A pause descends. The blonde has closed her eyes. Rachel thinks that she might not get an answer; she's worried that she had pushed the other girl too far. However a voice breaks the silence.

"…Because it's personal and it's a line I didn't cross. That and Santana would have made my life miserable. Brittany still sleeps with a night light."

In the dark, Rachel feels bold. Her hands go to play with the blonde's fingers. And surprisingly, Quinn doesn't pull back. She just let it happen. Thoughts and reason have no part in this because, _in the dark_, they find an excuse. The singer traces the softball player's index finger and brushes over the knuckles. The blonde's skin is soft and warm. The diva held a breath as she intertwines their fingers. Quinn leans back against the back of the booth. It fits. Without will, she turns their hands around. The brunette follows the motion. It's fluid; there are no clashes or clumsiness. _They_ fit. The touch means more than they know how to express. It was another memory that would be filed away, after the fact. Sometime, when they're alone, they might revisit it and smile.

Thump. They hear a drop. It's a few seconds before they see a flickering of a reddish light. A candle is held up and they see Matt was brush the dirt from his apron. Disheveled, he looks a little sheepish. His brow crinkled in concentration.

"Hey, girls. I finally dug up some candles from the back. I don't know how safe it is considering they've gone slightly green but what ever works, right?"

The waiter turns around to set more candles up around the room. He doesn't say much. It's only when they're alone again that the girls realize that their hands are still together. And it's no longer dark. Their gaze falls to the middle. The lighting is soft and precarious. Only four candles illuminated the room. Shadows move across their faces, revealing something different each time. It's in these moments that they don't know what to do. Rachel's brown eyes are more expressive, _warmer. _Quinn's features are softer, _less controlled_. But, like an unspoken agreement their hands break apart.

The blonde stands to help the waiter adjust the small wax torches. She needs to think. It's an excuse that the brunette appreciates as well. Because, in the light? The footballer is on both of their minds. Matt passes the ex-cheerleader a small battery operated radio. There's a crackle as the device tries to find a signal. Rachel rubs her hand against her neck as she turned away. Her gaze lingered on the dance floor.

"_Hey, hey listeners! As you should all know, Lima is currently experiencing a rolling blackout. Rest assured it's nothing serious but they need to do a bit of maintenance before they can return power. So relax, sit tight __and enjoy the mix we've created…"_

For a second it's the only sound in the room before the start of a song plays. It's slow. Quinn thinks she might recognize it.

Can you tell me how we got in this situation?

I can't seem to get you off my mind

They both look up, glancing at each other. The blonde doesn't move and Rachel can't break away. The brunette's head sways lightly to the music. It was a beautiful song. The empty space in the room has never been as obvious as it was right _now_. The singer takes a sad look around. She wonders where Finn is. It didn't make sense to set this up and not come.

All these ups and downs they

They trip up our good intentions

Quinn exhales resignedly, pushing off from her position. Rachel's eyes follow her every step. Eventually the softball player is standing in front of her, holding her hand out. She's looking everywhere else but at the short singer in front of her.

Nobody said this was an easy ride…

They don't really say anything. Rachel simply stands and takes a step closer. The blonde's arms automatically find her waist and hand. And like the first time, they can't quite control the shivers that erupt. They start to move like they have been dancing together all their life. Quinn's voice is low as she starts to sing along. To the brunette, it is the only sound that exists.

After all, we're only human

Always fighting what we're feeling

Hurt instead of healing

The blonde brings them into a little turn. The world doesn't fall away or suddenly disappear. It's still very much there but the girls, they lose the will to care. The steps they had to take, meant nothing. The continuous buzzing of the kitchen fridge meant _nothing. _Rachel leaned her head into the hollow where the blonde's neck met her shoulder. Her lips were millimeters from pale skin. Quinn could quickly feel her senses tuning to that one area.

After all we're only human

Is there any other reason?

Why we stay instead of leaving

After all

It wasn't choreographed but they could read each other's movements. The diva twirled away and when she returned their bodies were pulled flush against each other, closer than before. Nothing really occurs in their minds, McKinley, Finn, _even _glee club. For whatever reason, they had this moment and it was enough. For _one song_, it would be that simple.

Quinn takes a step back so that she can see the singer's brown orbs. The action is intuitive.

Can we get back to the point in this conversation?

Where we saw things through each other's eyes

Cause now all I see is ruin and devastation

Her voice breaks as her breath catches. There's so much emotion behind the song and they think they understand why. Rachel's eyes widen at the words. Her hands grip a little tighter. They're still moving. Somehow, they manage to avoid all the stray chairs and boxes.

We all need some place we can hide inside

The connection is broken and once again the brunette's head rests against the blonde. The diva can feel the vibrations of the softball player's chest as she sings the notes. Quinn was strong but not unyielding. Matt watches the interaction from the kitchen door. He wonders if this moment will change anything.

After all, we're only human

Always fighting what we're feeling

Hurt instead of healing

After all we're only human

Is there any other reason?

Why we stay instead of leaving

I'm smart enough to know that life goes by

And it leaves a trail of broken hearts behind

If you feel I'm letting go, just give me time

The blonde feels a faint wetness reach her neck. Rachel is quietly shaking in her arms. Swallowing, she forces herself to keep going. The words were affecting the both of them. Quinn found herself singing the words that she had never expected to feel, let alone say.

I'll come running to your side

Their movements start to slow. It's the song's interlude. They both use this time to think. They both try to stop, but they _can't. _Quinn takes a deep breath, brushing a stray dark strand behind the brunette's ear. Rachel has a small smile on her face as she looks down. A turn. A twirl. And a step back. 

Can you tell me how we got into this situation?

I can't seem to get you off my mind

After all, we're only human

Always fighting what we're feeling

Hurt instead of healing

After all we're only human

Is there any other reason?

Why we stay instead of leaving

Their breathing slows. Unconsciously they both move closer. Quinn tilts her head down leaning her forehead against the brunette's. The touch is soft and places no demands. It's just the sharing of space and air. Both their eyes are closed and they just _dance_...

After all, we're only human

Always fighting what we're feeling

Hurt instead of healing

After all we're only human

Is there any other reason?

Why we stay instead of leaving

Vaguely, Quinn hears an opening of a door.

After all...

Any other reason

Stay instead of leaving.

The ceiling lights start to flicker and the sound of the generator comes back on. In an instant, the spell is broken. Abruptly, Rachel feels the warmth being ripped away. The loss is so acute that her breathing stops. The blonde has moved back and was looking at the door with a practiced intensity. Bewildered the diva turned around.

There's a silence as the world returns. The song is over and it's no longer simple.

One the other side of the room, Finn stood with a bouquet of pink lilies. He's winded and sweating through his white shirt. The boy has an apologetic look on his face as he tries to catch his breath. Before anything can be said, Quinn walks over griping his arm, whispering angrily.

"Where were you? You're more than an hour late! It's not even dinnertime anymore."

Finn seems to falter a bit before turning behind his back. He produced a large carnival bear identical to the one Quinn had won. Suddenly, the blonde feels as if someone was standing on her chest. Her head is pounding with thoughts. The footballer's smile was goofy and proud.

"This was why I was late Quinn. I heard that the carnival was a few towns away from Indiana. On the Internet it said they were making a circuit track. I think that means it's going in a circle or something but I got Puck to drive me there. You see, on our first date, Rachel really wanted this bear but I couldn't win it for her – "

"So you spent the last week playing the game to get it for her…"

The blonde interrupted. Her tone was soft and distant. Finn noticed but didn't say anything, only nodding his head. _He had done well, hadn't he? _Finally, the ex-captain's mouth opens to say something but nothing comes out. She places a hand on the footballer's arm and looks up.

"Congratulations… you don't need me anymore, Finn."

The tall boy blushes, holding her gaze.

"Thank you."

The softball player waves it off, walking out the door. Her movements are slightly robotic. When she's outside she lets herself take a deep shuddering breath. The pressure in her chest hasn't disappeared, only appearing to get worse. She takes a look through the glass of the door. Rachel was in the footballer's arms. Quinn can't see her face but she imagines that she's happy. It was a dedicated gesture on Finn's part.

Inside, Rachel buries her face in the tall baritone's chest. She can't bring herself to look up because she's afraid that her eyes might betray something. Her other hand clutches the stuffed toy. To any outsider she imagines that they'll think she's crying from happiness. Her gaze lands on the abandoned takeout boxes on the center table. She can't comprehend why but her chest aches_, so much._

/

Rachel's eighteenth birthday becomes a night of _firsts._

It's the first time Quinn doesn't feel any pride or sense of achievement from her actions. There's only a sinking feeling in her stomach that makes it hard to concentrate, to _function_…

It's the first time Rachel feels _wrong_ in the footballer's arms, the boy she's adored for as long as she could remember. Tonight, she's suffocated, _trapped_…

Outside, the blonde makes it to her car. In the back seat lay a large stuffed bear; identical to the one the footballer had just presented to the singer. Quinn ran her fingers through her hair agitatedly. Her thoughts and her feelings were pulling her every which way, and she _couldn't_ control it. She couldn't clear her thoughts. She couldn't breathe. Looking down at the carnival toy she wonders why she has it. Had she really had the intention to give it to the shorter girl or was it just her back up plan in case Finn failed? She released a snicker as she looked up to the sky. It didn't really matter, because that night he did what the _she_ would have done.

It's the first time Finn has gotten everythingright without any assistance. _He's finally learnt _how toexpress himself...

That night both girls got what they wished for. Rachel had the _Finn _she had always envisioned. Quinn got her freedom. And it couldn't have hurt more because in the end, it wasn't what any of the girls had _actually _wanted. But they've already paid the cost.

/

Quinn moves to get into her car however before she does, a little boy runs into her. The blonde's arms quickly move to steady the child. His mother can be heard repeating apologies in the distance as she tried to catch up.

"Hello, I'm so sorry. I just took this little tyke, here, out to dinner and now he's all geared up for ice cream. I hope he didn't hurt you."

"No it's fine."

The softball player waved away the concerns. Smiling gently, she kneeled down to the little boy's level. He seems to tilt his head inquisitively. Briefly the blonde wonders if her feelings show on her face. Maybe he could tell her, maybe he could help her understand. Children had a way of seeing things that adults so often overlooked. She meets his gaze.

"You shouldn't run on the streets too much. I'm Quinn, what's your name?"

The sandy brown haired child puffed out his chest.

"Eric."

Quinn shook his small hand. He couldn't be that much younger than Sam's little sister. She notices how his eyes seem to be glued to the back of her car. The boy runs to his mother.

"Mommy, she had the giantest teddy bear ever. I want it. Please mommy, I really want it."

The mother seems to blush, embarrassed by her son's loud demands. She looks up imploringly to the blonde, taking out her wallet.

"I'm so sorry but is there any way you could sell that bear to me? Eric seems to be crazy about it."

There's a gap, as the ex-cheerleader reaches for the stuffed animal. Her hand runs through its soft fur. The smell of Rachel Berry is entrenched in the fibers. It makes her head swim. Her mind is still reeling from the night's events. She thinks that she needs _distance._ She thinks that ridding herself of the bear is the first step. But, it's a decision that she will come to regret, because from that night onwards she _barely_ sleeps.

"It's fine. I'm too old for stuffed animals anyway."

She places the teddy into the mother's shocked arms and goes back to her car.

"Are you sure?"

The woman's voice cuts across the night. Quinn shakes her head, looking to the sky. Her whisper gets lost in the wind.

"No. I'm not…"

/

Quinn goes home that night. She's on autopilot. Keys go into the lock. The door is opened and she makes her way up the stairs. It's all she knows how to do. The blonde ignores the curious look on her mother's face and walks into her room. _It's pitch black_. She remembers a different life in the dark. But, like the events of the day she turns the lights on because nobody stayed in the shadows forever. Especially when you were destined to be on a Broadway stage.

She sits at her piano and music starts to flow. She imagines that this is the music the footballer and the diva would be dancing to. It was the song she wrote. She didn't mean it at the time, but she questions whether that is still true now. It's the second time she sings with the shorter girl in mind.

Did I really need her, was it just a sweet dream

That lingers in the morning, like a melody

Over and over, all through the day,

I can't stop thinkin' 'bout how I'm feeling this way'

Quinn closes her eyes. She knows the song off by heart.

She moves like sea breeze, swirling around me

The fragrance that she leaves hangs in the air

Soft like a whisper, she's calling me to her,

These eyes have seen the most beautiful dream

Bit by bit, the pressure in her chest starts to relieve itself. She's completely immersed. For once, she's not looking for an exit because she can acknowledge that she _needs _this. She needs to get the words out.

My friends have told me, fortune loves the brave

_Bullshit... __what's going on between you and the dwarf... You know that you can't hide behind Finnocence for this one..._

We started talking and I couldn't break away

_Why not? I've been awful to you._

I made plans to meet tonight keeping you near

_She likes to dance…_

And when midnight strikes I have nothing to fear

_What are you so scared of Quinn…the future…when all of this is gone…_

She moves like sea breeze, swirling around me

The fragrance that she leaves hangs in the air

Soft like a whisper, she's calling me to her

These eyes have seen the most beautiful dream

The softball player is not quite there anymore. Quinn is in a place where music protects her from everything else. The blonde doesn't notice the older Fabray standing curiously by the staircase. Judy is afraid to get any closer but she could hear the singing from downstairs. She realizes that she's never seen her daughter be so sincere, so _conflicted._

To my surprise, oh,

She took my heart with one look in her eye

To a place that feels like home

The words are clear, with no room for error. Judy should be surprised but she isn't. The older woman is just concerned. Quinn wasn't equipped to deal with emotions like these and that's partly her fault. She _knows _that. It's a wonder the ex-captain is as strong as she is. That's something Russell and Judy Fabray can't take credit for.

She moves like sea breeze, swirling around me

The fragrance that she leaves hangs in the air

She moves like sea breeze, swirling around me

The fragrance that she leaves hangs in the air

Judy watches silently. Through the music, she shares her daughter's grief and confusion. Quinn takes a deep breath. Her fingers play barely there notes. It's her voice that stands out.

Soft like a whisper, she's calling me to her

These eyes have seen the most beautiful dream

Soft like a whisper, she's calling me to her

These eyes have seen the most beautiful dream

The blonde stops playing. She moves to the design on her wall. Her hand meets the black outlines. _The star and the Cheerio… _The last line is sung with a tortured certainty.

_These eyes have seen the most beautiful dream._

/

Sniff. I feel so bad for Quinn at this point in time. When she's finally got it, so has Finn. Rachel also realizes that she's not happy. Major case of too little too late. I like Matt. Santana and Brittany are awesome but I think he brings something else that Quinn can't ignore.

Review! XD…nah I won't make you. But if you have any thoughts… ;)


	11. Chapter 11 Regionals

**Chapter 11 – Regionals**

Ok. Let me fix some of your fears. This is a Faberry fic, there is a light at the end of the tunnel and you guys will reach it soon. XD But until then…oh and the song for this chapter is Faber Drive's "You and I tonight." If you have the chance listen to it.

/

"Alright guys. Heads-up. Regionals is pretty much here and it's time to write our songs again. The theme for the competition this time is _change_. Now this can be anything from relationships, family, even school, which is perfect. This is your last year and I can tell you all, you're not the same people who walked into this classroom two years ago."

In response, there was a wave of agreement and high fives. Santana nodded to herself and Brittany smiled her innocent grin. The team was united. Mr Schue felt a glimmer of pride. He would do anything it took to make their dreams come true, they were all so talented. Everyone had grown so much over the years. But still, he couldn't help but worry about the blonde who was just barely with them in the room, staring despondently at the wall. He couldn't _help_ but notice how Rachel's eyes seem to be fixated to the ex-captain's head, hands wrung in her lap. The music teacher had never seen the poised brunette look so uncomfortable. She seemed to shrink under Finn's arm. Mr Schue cleared his throat.

"OK. Rachel, Quinn, I thought since you girls did such a good job with the song for sectionals, you might want to team up writing this duet as well. The rest of us can work on the group number."

The curly haired teacher kept an eye open, gouging their reaction. Quinn and Rachel were volatile elements but there were times when it almost seemed like they could be _close_, understanding each other to a strange level. Mr Schue had to wonder if all bully-victim relationships were like this. Did Kurt understand Dave Kartofsky in the same way? Somehow he doubted it. The music teacher found no reaction. The blonde ex-cheerleader still hasn't said anything, with the only indication of awareness being the slight flicker in her green eyes. Behind, the diva wore a slight frown and a creased forehead.

"…I'll take your silence as a yes then. Well it looks like that's all we're going to get done today. Let's just make plans to get together to go over it next lesson. I expect progress, guys."

It seems like impeccable timing because at that moment the bell rings, signaling the start of the school day. The members of New Direction file out of the room, sleepily dragging themselves to their next class. Santana bumps Quinn's shoulders softly on her way out whilst Brittany stops to hug the ex-captain. The softball player is thankful for her friends. She manages to shove her notepad into her bag before she turns to the exit. A warm hand stops her, tentatively holding onto her wrist. Quinn sighed. There was only one person that caused tremors to run through her body like that. When she finally turned her head back, she's met with curious and passionate browns. They both stay completely still. The words slip out in a raspy command and Quinn tries to inject some of her old self into her voice.

"Lunch. Auditorium. One thirty. We'll work on the song…"

_She fails._

/

It's halfway through the day when the blonde meanders her way to the dark theatre room. Her McKinley duffel knocks repeatedly against her thigh with each stride. It's a comforting feeling, keeping her grounded. The ex-captain has been _off _since the night of the diva's birthday. Thoughts and feelings run rampant in her mind in that she feels unhinged. Her stomach now churned at the thought of Thai food. The areas around her eyes were dark from the lack of sleep. Her mother had since changed her bedding, removing the last traces of Rachel that might've helped. For a brief moment, Quinn had been thankful until she realized that the singer's smell had already been burned into her mind. At night her body still searched for something tangible, only to remember that she had given the stuffed animal away.

She slips tiredly onto the piano stool, taking a blank sheet out of her folder. A soft tune fills the room as her fingers dance.

Eventually there's the sound of soft footsteps approaching the piano. The softball player doesn't stop playing. She simply looks up with an indifferent expression. She wonders if her effort is obvious. Rachel stands timidly by the instrument. The diva can't remember the last time her heart was beating so fast. The only thing she knows is that it had nothing to do with Finn. Breathing fills the silence. The blonde's posture straightens

"You're late…"

It's a statement not a question. The brunette blushes, looking everywhere but at the taller girl. Shyly, she tucks a loose strand of brown hair behind her ear. She's been on this stage a thousand times but it always seemed bigger, grander when the blonde was with her on it. The darkly lit hall is one of the few places where they lose control and reveal a little more than they intend. They're _real. _Rachel looks across the space.

"I was thinking about what to say."

There's nothing but honesty in her tone. She meets Quinn's gaze. The ex-cheerleader has her eyebrow raised slightly before looking down at the keys. She doesn't have to because she knows the instrument like an extension of her own body but it's an excuse to gather her scattered thoughts. Finally a steady murmur comes out.

"Rachel Berry… lost for words? Never thought I'd live to see _that_ happen."

Without speaking, the singer moves forward, placing her hands on the piano's stop. Weary green eyes follow her movements. Rachel tries not to shudder.

"Well, I never thought things would be like _this_, Quinn…"

Abruptly, there's a stop to the music. The blonde's fingers still. Frustration and exhaustion flows into her expression. The two girls seem to do nothing but stare, willing the other to back down when all they really wanted was the opposite. It was just another point on the list of things that they couldn't say.

_After all, we're only human…always fighting what we're feeling…_

The ex-cheerleader shakes her head.

"There's nothing to talk about, Berry."

The words shoot through the brunette. Her mouth opens to say something but she stops. Quinn has already turned away, focusing on the blank sheet music. The blonde has dismissed the issue and that causes an irritated feeling to bubble in in the singer. Rachel rarely feels rage, choosing to believe in positive emotions but at this point all she wants to do is yell at the taller girl in front of her. But, she doesn't. There's never been a need for her to yell at the softball player. They might not have agreed on things but they always _listened_. So instead she simply leans closer, her expression defiant and stubborn.

"What happened between us that night?"

A clang is heard as the blonde's finger's hit the keys hard. The tension is coming off in waves. Rolling her eyes, Quinn's gaze flicker up to the singer's face. She enunciates every word, hoping that with force, the lie would sink in. It hadn't worked for heryet but maybe…_just maybe._

"Nothing. Finn was late, so I kept you company until he got there. You looked sad on your birthday so we danced. _Stop pushing_ Rachel. I don't have the answers that you're looking for. _God_…"

The brunette is frozen as her breathing hitches. The words stung but her mind seems to lock onto the use of her first name. Quinn rarely spoke it out loud, as if it was voodoo or something. And in some ways it was. Because to the blonde it meant that she was unraveling. When did the short singer stop being Berry? When did she _become_ Rachel to her? Berry was an acquaintance, tolerated and often ignored. Rachel was… something more, something she couldn't distance herself from. She sighed heavily looking away, around the room, to the ceiling, anywhere but here. Her tired voice expels.

"You should be _happy. _Let it go… We're not wasting any more time on this. So let's just write the song."

Quinn places her hand on the keys again. She focuses on the task before her. Whether the other girl decided to join in or not was her prerogative. The softball player just didn't want to _think_ anymore. She does that enough in the loneliness of her room. Rachel takes a deep breath moving towards the stationary girl. Her eyes are sad and slightly averted. The question comes out softly, thickened by emotion.

"Why are you so afraid?"

Silence. For a while nothing happens. Then Quinn starts to pack up her bags and Rachel knows that she's pushed too far. The blonde's movements are agitated and erratic as her short bangs swing with the flurry of action. The singer just stands, watching somberly. Eventually, the ex-captain stepped into the shorter girl's space. They both flinched. It's not out of fear. As strange as it was they didn't _scare _each other. It was just the feelings, thoughts and the reactions that knocked them off. The taller girl feels a stab with each word that comes out. She didn't lie about all of it. She really doesn't have the answers but right no she feels too threatened to care.

"…You know what. This time let me be to one to walk away. Don't worry about it, I'll write the song without you. "

It's the second time Quinn walks away from the brunette. And it's the second time for it to mean something _more_ to either girl.

They tried breathing through the hurt.

/

Mr Schue sat in his chair flipping through the loose sheets of music. In his mind he was transposing the symbols into sound. Two days had passed, the glee club had gotten together to write the group number but Quinn and Rachel had both been absent. Everyone had attributed it to them writing the duet. If so, it was worth it because the finished product took the music teacher's breath away. There was truth and openness to this that he had never experienced before. He looked up at the ex-cheerleader by the window. She had her trademark pensive expression.

"Wow, You wrote this Quinn? This…this is a great song. There's so much emotion and the composition is perfect. Did Rachel help you with this?"

At the mention, the blonde seemed to harden, letting out a frustrated sigh. She stood a little straighter and her hand ran through her short hair in an irritated fashion. When she spoke her brows were creased and she wore a glower.

"No. Berry and I decided to do this separately. We don't work well together."

She turned back to the window, observing the other students going home. It didn't faze her; she had no desire to rush. Her bedroom had just turned into another place in her life that was tied to the diva, one that she hated but _couldn't_ let go. Mr Schue shifted in his seat. His eyes flickered from the sheet music in his hand to the girl in his classroom. There was a clench in her jaw. The music teacher often felt empathy to the blonde who had to grow up so fast. It wasn't fair, but it seemed that she was strong enough to get through. In many respects, he shouldn't have asked his next question but he couldn't help it. Alarm bells were ringing in his head. His curiosity and worry for the wellbeing of his kids propelled him.

"Why do you do that Quinn? You never call Rachel by her first name. It's been two years. _You_ helped her with Kelsey. It's been proven you do _know _each other so why can't you get along?"

The softball player's head turned to meet the music teacher's gaze. The normally determined green eyes were swirling with some unnamed emotion. For a second she looked dangerous. Her arms were crossed and she stood by the wall. The distance felt safe but suddenly Mr Schue felt outranked. It seemed Quinn commanded the room even regardless of age or uniform. Her voice is smooth, measured and_ final. _It didn't betray anything.

"…Mr Schue I respect you but this is none of your business. "

The music teacher flinched internally but he forced himself to hold her gaze. However his eyes did belie his hurt. He liked to think that over the years he had created a close bond with all the students in glee, that he was somebody they could talk to. So the minutes passed, Quinn seemed to soften, she took a couple of steps forward and her hand traced the edge of a desk. The blonde looked around the room. Her voice came across soft and reflective. She was playing the scene in her mind.

"Two years ago, you told me that you knew that I was the one behind Glist because I had nothing to lose. You were right, I didn't. But I got everything back. I actually got it better, like you said."

The music teacher nodded at the memory, smiling. It was one of the first instances that he had really seen the blonde for who she was, just a girl, lost. However, it was a great contrast to the version of Quinn before him now. There was still a large amount of confusion but it seemed to be controlled by a something else. Something, that caused her to smile and grimace at the same time. The blonde had a stronger understanding of herself now, but she often wondered if that was better. Being aware seemed to affect her actions more. The ex-cheerleader looked up as the truth filtered out.

"Now I do have something to lose."

Mr Schue swallowed at the seriousness of statement. With that Quinn looked away. The music teacher seemed to appreciate that that was all the information she was willing to disclose on the matter. He turned his head to the music score in his hand. His mind was running, trying to compute all that he had heard.

"Ok Quinn. Well, this is…the perfect song for regionals. I just wish you had told us sooner about your skills. Between you and Finn, we could have really used talents like yours last year. Although I'll admit Finn ability seems to come and go."

Mr Schue tilted his head thoughtfully as he turned to grab something from his drawer. The blonde rolled her eyes, scoffing. He came back with a large set of brochures. The music teacher flipped through the bunch picking out a few. The blonde stared deadpan.

"Have you ever considered taking writing and musical compositions courses in college after you graduate? You could really go on to do something with your piano talents."

Quinn scoffed. An errant thought seemed to pass through her mind before she quickly shrugged it off. She turned to the Mr Schue and her eyes were clear because there were still _some_ things she was sure of.

"No, I'm not going there. Music? That's Berry's thing. I don't care what I do – I just want out of Lima."

Deflated, Mr Schue nodded putting the information back into his desk.

"Alright, I guess I can accept that."

Quinn moved back to the window grabbing her duffel. It seemed the conversation was over. He watched her pack up her belongings. Her eyes seem to stray to the music sheet in his hand. He thought he could see the barest traces of uncertainty, reverence and protectiveness. Mr Schue faltered at the hidden emotions, without a doubt the blonde did _care, _though about what he had no idea. He believed that there were very few who did. He could feel the question at the tip of his tongue.

"Are you at least going to talk the person in your song about how you feel?"

"No."

It's a short answer without any hesitation. Quinn lifted the bag strap to her shoulder. When she turned around she was met Mr Schue's questioning gaze.

"Why?"

This time, there's a small shake of the head and a sad smile as the blonde stares pointedly at the spot behind the music teacher. At the entrance, stood Ms Pillsbury looking equal bits curious, nervous and embarrassed for interrupting. Unconsciously Mr Schue couldn't stop the grin that appeared on his face as he took in the crisp blouse and sensible cardigan. His eyes lingered on the redhead's quirky flushed smile before he turned back to the blonde he had been speaking to. Quinn seems to pause as the words roll around in her mouth. There's a conflicted sense of _knowing _in her eyes as she casts a look to the music teacher and the guidance counselor by the door.

"Because sometimes, it's about what you don't say…"

/

Struck by the statement, Mr Schue lowered himself into his chair at the blonde's departure. From the corner of his eyes he could see the ginger haired counselor move closer. She placed her hand concernedly on his shirt-covered shoulder. Automatically, his eyes closed at the touch. He could still feel the warmth. It was calming and reassuring. He felt his love for the obsessive-compulsive faculty member swell.

"Hey… Will, are you alright?"

With that, he returned to the presence. The music teacher tried to shake the thoughts away, smiling gently at the redhead.

"Yeah, sorry about that, I was just thinking about something Quinn said to me. We were talking about her future an –"

Excited by the topic, Emma jumped in. She had just received the orders from Principal Figgins a minute ago. She spoke brightly, all the while moving to clean a nearby chair down with disinfectant wipes.

"Actually that's what I needed to talk to you about. In about the next month or so I'm going to be conducting career-counseling sessions with the seniors. Most of the glee club kids are actually first on the list."

Mr Schue groaned, placing his head into his hands. He rubbed his temples slowly trying to release the tension.

"Well, good luck with that. Some of them are like a closed book. Others don't really have a lot of aspirations."

Ms Pilsbury seemed to scrunch her face at the idea. Mr Schue smiled at the adorable manner that her nose crinkled. He ran a hand through his curly hair. As he spoke, his eyes were warm and his voice was soft.

"But I'd love to help you out, if I can."

"Thanks Will."

The redhead blushed under the attention. It was ridiculous she seemed to be attracted by anything that the music teacher did. After the summer break and the start of school her feelings hadn't diminished at all. Her hands wiped the surface of the chair with more purpose as she tried to regulate her breathing. Her vision lingered on his hunched posture. The music teacher's expression was furrowed in thought. She had often admired his dedication. Awkwardly she stepped close to Mr Schue.

"I can see that something else is on your mind. Will… you can talk to me…being a guidance counselor, I guide."

Her hands move nervously with her words. The music teacher smiles, just grateful for her presence. He would convince her they were worth the shot. He loved her quirks and all. She would see that. But for now, all he did was expel a breath.

"I think Quinn and Rachel are having problems again and that's just not good for the club."

Ms Pillsbury turned back to her task of cleaning the chair. She spoke over her shoulder.

"Well, that's no secret. The girls have never gotten along before. I mean I've read some of the Myspace video comments Quinn, Santana and the rest of the cheerios used to post. They're not exactly friendly."

Three more wipes. The ginger haired faculty member tilted her head, appraising her job. Was it safe enough to sit on? Her ears still keyed in on Will's response. Frustration, confusion and concern was embedded in his tone.

"I know Emma. It's like… I can't explain it. Just that there are times where they're in the same moment or something and I swear they care. I mean I don't know much about female friendships. Terri never did have anyone over. So is this …normal?"

Finally satisfied, the guidance counselor seated herself on the wooden chair. She meets the music teacher's gaze and the words just flow out of her mouth. She finds that she gets flustered in such proximity with the object of her affections. Her hands fidget, wanting something to keep busy with, to rearrange.

"I guess it's possible I mean relationships are strange. Sometimes they work sometimes they don't. Not everyone gets along. There are feelings. Nothing ever fits into a neatly wrapped box."

Every word has made her more nervous and now her mouth was dry. Her pale skin was getting heated. Mr Schue leaned forward. He wanted to reach for her hand but stopped himself.

"Are we still talking about the kids?"

Emma's mouth opened and closed. Her voice was high pitched and irregular. Her hands went to rearrange the pencils on the music teacher's desk.

"No. Yes! Of course."

/

It was the day of Regionals.

The curtains lift. Members of New Directions band together on stage latching on to each other's hands. The thrill of performing hits all of them as the clapping and cheers of their audience greets their ears. They're lost in the moment. All but two, the brunette standing center-stage and the blonde by the piano. They're paces apart but it doesn't really matter. Being close would be too difficult; they had learnt that during the rehearsals. Rachel breathed deeply but her heart keeps racing. It feels like it's about to jump out of her skin. Ever since Mr Schue had presented the song to the group, the singer has had nothing else on her mind. Did Quinn mean it? _Any_ of it? The words are so ingrained into her being that she can't ignore.

But the difference is that this time, she wants to forget because the distance is hurting the both of them… whether they can admit or not.

On the other end, Quinn stares distantly at her hands as they opened and close in front of her. She was trying to get some feeling back. Now closer to the start of the number, she felt the blood drain from her limbs, overwhelming her head and heart. Her heart is thumping and her head is throbbing. What was she doing? She looks up and, _for a second,_ everything is all right because tear filled browns hold green. It's only for a second, before Rachel whips her head away and Quinn forces her composure to return. The moment provides some sort of courage because the blonde feels herself move. The opening chords start and the notes flow in. Her breath is held until the diva's voice reaches her ear; soft, solemn and for the first time _unsure_.

The brunette does not look to Quinn, she _can't. _Their truths were about to be laid out for the world to see, but only they would know.

Tonight a candle lights the room,

Tonight it's only me and you,

Your skin, like gravity

Is pulling every part of me,

I fall, you and I collide

Rachel's eyes are closed. She lets the music fill her as she remembers _everything; _the small candles that lit up the restaurant and Quinn's solid presence in the dark. That night, her body had moved closer with each passing step and like magnets, she had no control. She remembers feeling safe, wanted and _shockingly_ loved… The sensations of the Quinn's hands still remain on her waist and in her palm. The diva danced swiftly in a circle in front of the audience. In her mind, she's not alone. In her mind, she's with the ex-cheerleader and her head is forever tucked into a pale neck that she wants to hide inside.

But that's not reality. Her eyes open and she stares at the pianist. It takes a moment before the blonde's head lifts and their eyes lock. They're both breathing quite heavily. Santana and Brittany watch from the side, only they notice the other world that existed behind the song. The words roused the crowd.

What if I stay forever?

What if there's no goodbye?

Frozen for a moment here in time,

Rachel smiles softly, her eyes are slightly broken because it's an offer that doesn't really exist in this time and place. Her voice blows through the high ceiling room.

Yeah,

If you tell me the sky is falling,

Or say that the stars collide,

She shakes her head, in turn shaking away the moisture from her eyes. It removes the physical effects of the song but the same couldn't be said about the emotional. Rachel Berry always sung with everything that she was but she had never felt this raw, this exposed.

The only thing that matters in my life,

Is you and I tonight…

With the last line her volume diminishes slightly. Only emphasizing the meaning of the words. Rachel stared helplessly at the softball player before turning to her tall footballer. There's a brave smile pasted onto her face and Quinn wills herself to breathe. Her finger nearly slips on a wet key. There's a clumsy moment as Finn walks over to give the brunette's hand an encouraging squeeze before turning to the crowd. Rachel finds herself watching the footballer intently. He was without a care. She wonders why he doesn't see straight through her… She wonders why _Quinn _does. Piercing greens stare in her direction but it is Finn's singing that meets her ear.

The singer thinks it's a figment of her imagination _but_ she swears she hears the blonde's voice as well. The softball player believes her singing is too low to be heard, _but_ she feels a strange exhilaration under Rachel's curious gaze. Quinn swallows and the memories play behind her eyes like a silent movie.

Our eyes close the candle burns away,

But I know the fire still remains

The pianist is the picture of grace as her head moves rhythmically with the playing of the music. The diva wants to paint herself in. She notices how the blonde's voice seemed to change with each word. There's knowledge of the truth mixed with the desire to believe a lie, because _hey_… it _would _be easier.

This love is all we need

We fit together perfectly,

They recall how their bodies seem to match each other. Quinn watches as the footballer grabs onto the brunette's hand. She feels a flash of something that causes her fingers to hit the notes hard. Santana shoots the blonde a look but the ex-captain doesn't quite care. Finn's large palms seem to swallow Rachel's. When she looks up she can see the diva looking over the footballer's frame. The blonde whispers the line.

_I fall, you and I collide_

For a moment there's a pause before the chorus. Finn gathers the small singer into his arms and smiles down. The audience softens and cheers at the sight. The baritone's strong voice attempts to carry the passion in the offer. There's love in his eyes and the brunette falters. The only problem was that it wasn't _his _words, his promise_,_ to give. Quinn looks down to the keys as she's reminded of all she can't or _won't,_ do.

What if I stay forever?

What if there's no goodbye?

Frozen for a moment here in time,

Yeah,

If you tell me the sky is falling,

We'll say that the stars collide,

The only thing that matters in my life,

Is you and I tonight

They've reached the climax. Rachel takes a breath, turning to the footballer. Her lines come out different. She has to push past the ache and the blockage in her throat, in that there's so much charge to the words. It actually adds to the performance, however unexpected. Brittany squeezes Santana's hand and they both share a solemn look.

I wanna see this through

I wanna give it all to you

The brunette turns away, for a second she can't face either of _them. _She misses the burning concern in the green orbs that follows her. Unaware, Finn finishes enthusiastically. His voice is low and manages to match the pace of the song. From the back, Santana wants to knock her head against a wall at his ignorance or naiveté. Finn was either, so blind or so _unreceptive_ to the girl he claimed to love, _that_ he doesn't actually _see_. Or he was honestly innocent enough to believe that all was well. Her eyes look to Artie and Finn. Her only thought was _love without understanding…_

Tonight a candle lights the room

Tonight, it's only me and you, oh

With that, the rest of New Directions filter in, joining the leads in the final chorus. Santana and Brittany automatically make their way to their blonde friend. There's a supporting hand to the shoulder and whispers of happiness and sleepovers after the win. It's all they can do before Quinn is ready to confront this. The two girls dance their parts, managing to hide the ex-captain from the looks of others. The only person they let in through gaps of movement is the brunette diva. The ex-cheerleader and the singer's eyes are held for the rest of the song.

_What if I stay forever?_

_What if there's no goodbye?_

_Frozen for a moment here in time,_

_Yeah,_

_If you tell me the sky is falling,_

_Or say that the stars collide,_

_The only thing that matters in my life,_

_Is you and I tonight_

_Tell me the sky, forever_

_Just you and I tonight_

_Tell me the sky,_

_What if I stay?_

_Just you and I tonight_

A tear slips down Rachel's face as she looks to her feet. She could cry on cue. _But this time_, it's not in her control to stop. Whereas, Quinn is inhaling erratically as she leans her head into her palms. She could run suicides for hours. _But this time_, it's not in her control to breathe normally.

/

At the performances finish, Rachel moves off the stage, powering through the other glee members. Mercedes and Kurt direct each other confused worried glances. Quinn wars with herself. There's a strong imperative to chase after the singer but she questions whether she should. Because really, what could she say? She still didn't have the answers. The song was just…everything she couldn't express. She didn't think it would _matter. _Rachel loved Finn. For the ex-captain, it was a release and now, in the aftermath, she realizes that it might have harmed the both of them, perhaps more than they expected.

Her lips purse and her jaw clenches. Quinn questions the concept of free will. She's starting to doubt whether she possess it, for she wasn't free to _choose. _Her legs were decidedly going in the direction of the diva. In her haste she bumps into something quite solid. The ex-cheerleader stumbles and is helped up by an apologetic Finn. The blonde tries to stomach her annoyance. He seems to be genuinely concerned.

"Hey, Quinn what's your hurry?"

She pauses, looking a little incredulous. Did he not see the upset short brunette singer rush off the stage? Off the side of her eye she sees Brittany walk off in Rachel's direction. Santana gives Quinn an eye roll as she reluctantly followed. The softball player felt herself relax slightly. The Latina and the tall dancer would make sure the diva was all right. Instead she gives her attention to the footballer.

"Nothing Finn... You did well on the song. Congratulations."

The shy giant blushed under the commendation. As modestly as he could, he shrugged his shoulders.

"Thanks. Hey…it was a really awesome song."

Quinn couldn't help but roll her eyes. He really needed to get a larger vocabulary if he had any hope in understanding his girlfriend. The tall boy shuffled awkwardly. His features scrunched as his mouth opened and closed in attempts to say something.

"Um… I just want you to know. You can talk to me. I know we've been through a lot but we're friends aren't we? I mean you helped me with Rach."

Finn seemed to get more tongue-tied with each word. A sad smile makes its way to her face as she nods slowly. The boy instantly relaxed at the action. He leaned on a makeshift prop and sidled closer as if to share a secret. Briefly, the blonde recalls that before they dated they were friends. They were close. She realizes that missed that. The footballer's expression was warm, goofy and untroubled.

"Good. Do you want to talk about it? I mean I didn't know you felt that way about anyone. He must be really special. It's good Quinn. You deserve to be happy."

A scoff escapes and the ex-cheerleader turns her head away. The footballer takes this as a sign of shyness and pushes forward. He misreads the signals, it's not the first time and the ex-cheerleader knows that it won't be the last.

"Maybe I could help I mean I know all the guys at McKinley. I could introduce you guys or something."

There's a silence as Quinn becomes lost in her thoughts. Looking into the Finn's eyes, she finally sees. She remembers why she started this, why she helped the footballer with the brunette. She _also_ realizes the reasons why she couldn't _do this, _whatever _this _was.._. _Everything in the lyrics that she had written was true. _That night_ was over. That moment was gone. Now, in the days after, it wasn't just her and the diva anymore. They _couldn't_ freeze time and _she_ couldn't stay forever…

Quinn couldn't and Rachel wasn't going to.

Rachel Barbra Berry was going to Broadway, New York.

/

The next day the choir room buzzed with enthusiasm. Most of its residents celebrated the victory over Regionals. The judges had awarded McKinley the trophy citing exceptional chemistry and emotion. Rachel even received a special commendation, not that it had any effect. The singer didn't make a big deal out of it, surprising everyone. To her, it only showed how much she wasn't in love with Finn. Her plans for senior year have not gone as expected. To her alarm she was getting everything she thought she wanted: the perfect boy, recognition of her talent and friends that actually cared. It _should be enough._

Suddenly there's a slight lull to the chatter as Quinn walked in, late. The blonde seemed to stop a second as to deliberate a decision. Snippets of familiar emotions flash behind her eyes. In the end she doesn't look anywhere but straight ahead as she sits in the seat next to the diva. She doesn't turn and she doesn't nod. She just does what she needs to do. Rachel feels a sting at the lack of acknowledgement. In all their years they had always existed to each other. The singer notices how the ex-captain seemed to stiffen and clench next to her. Minutes pass. As they wait for Mr Schue to come in, the diva reads her copy of the Patti Lupone biography for the fifth time, trying to stamp down the hurt. The softball player draws a sketch on her notepad; she learns to take extreme attention so that she doesn't end up with an image of the girl sitting next to her. They both only _pretend_ to be there.

Ironically, there's less than thirty centimeters between them but it feels like they're worlds apart. As communication is foregone, there's nothing to do and the space just seems to fill up with everything that they _won't_ say. Rachel finds herself missing the sarcastic comments about her animal sweaters and her somewhat transparent personality. Quinn finds herself wanting to stop the charade, to give up and give _in. _But like always there's a difference between want and need. Funny thing is that the blonde had lost the ability to differentiate, approximately two weeks ago.

Unconsciously, her attention is drawn to the big arms on the singer's shoulders. Rachel was hunched so that there were actually very little points of contact between her and Finn. No matter what, the girls _don't _look at each other. The songs that they've sung just seem to echo in their minds, as they are left with their memories. Santana shook her head frustrated by the situation, while Brittany just watched with a sad expression. All they had to do was reach across and get back everything that made them _work_ whether it was love, friendship or even hatred. All they had to do was make the choice to _not _lose each other…

Suddenly there's a thump as Puck gives Finn a friendly head wrestle. Both girls look up at the sound or at least they _meant to._ Like _always,_ hazelgreen eyes instinctively snap to warm browns. The intensity is scorching and they both swallow. Quinn and Rachel are suspended by their feelings. 

_What if I stayed forever?_

_What if there was no goodbye…_

/

Okie. See I promise they're moving forward. This isn't as sad as the other one but yeah Rachel is kind of fully coming to the understanding that even Near Perfect Finn is not what she wants.

As usual, don't hesitate to tell me what you think and if you guys are starting to see the light at the end of the tunnel I keep talking about. XD


	12. Chapter 12 Hidden Away

**Chapter 12 – Hidden Away**

Sorry for the delay guys but I sincerely hope you think it's worth it. It's also longer than your average chapter from me. The first song is Hidden Away by Josh Groban. I think Rachel's voice would be perfect for it. The second is Halfway by Parachute. Have a listen if you can.

Right now to answer some questions. To _clenche, _this isn't a faberry story where they only get together at the end. I agree it would be such a bummer, this story actually continues till the marriage question is popped. If that's good or bad I don't know. Up to you readers, I suppose. To _Nightbrainzz, _hahaha sorry for the frustration, your reviews cracked me up and thanks for the compliments. XD To _Cali_, sorry for the delay.

/

Come Monday, Rachel stormed into the halls of McKinley, heading straight to the lockers to retrieve her textbooks. To say that she was annoyed would be an understatement and, very _inaccurate_. No, not a single emotion could capture her feelings on the matter. Rage? Sadness? The desire to wring a certain blonde's neck? All were true depending on the time of day and her proximity to Quinn. In the past, the brunette had relied so much on words to announce herself, to give labels and to create understanding. _But these days,_ her vocabulary, like her 9-year life plan were _both_ failing her. For once, her future on Broadway isn't the first thought she wakes with. If she was being honest it wasn't even third on the list.

It had been a week since Regionals. The girls still hadn't spoken to each other, instead they had been left with cold silences and stolen glances. It was _jarring._ Quinn hadn't gone out of her way to avoid the shorter girl. In fact, she did everything the same as she had since the beginning of the year. The softball player still sat on the seat next to the diva in glee. The blonde _still_ picked her up on Thursdays. She _still_ kept a protective eye out for anyone with a slushie nearing the singer. However, the pivotal change was the complete lack of communication and acknowledgement. Now, there's a fifty-foot wall between them but neither have the courage _or_ excuse to climb it. Rachel wants to yell at the ex-cheerleader to go away because she _can't _stand it, the closeness actually hurts more.

But those are the things she _wants_ to do. What she _needs _is for the taller girl to stay, she needs Quinn to be _there. _Shockingly, she needs the blonde to keep her insecure obsessional tendencies at bay.

On the other hand, the softball player doesn't fare much better. Every morning she would wake up from a restless sleep. Random sheet music are scattered throughout her once well-kept room. Each line detailed a fragment from an interaction with the diva, a memory she'd like to forget. When the ex-cheerleader is in front of her bathroom mirror, she mentally berates herself for the changes she sees. Her green eyes are conflicted, _yet_ above all they carry a light that seemed to penetrate the murky depths. The blonde would never call it love. Then again, she would never do a lot of things.

Quinn tries to convince her reflection that _today_ was the day that she would _finally _paint over the drunken design on her bedroom wall. She would _finally _learn how to ignore Rachel or, at the very least, stop caring as much. The ex-cheerleader imagines that her other mirror self is snickering in disbelief. Throughout the days, there's always a fraction of a second where she thinks that she can do it, where she thinks she may succeed. But before the softball player can comprehend anything, she is sitting next to the brunette. In a moment her gaze strays from the task at hand. And in a moment she's not _sure_ anymore.

Both are struggling with the change. Every now and then one might open their mouth to say something, to brave the gap, only to quickly snap their lips shut. It's in those instances that they realize that they are not _those_ people. Rachel refuses to be a cheater. And Quinn won't let herself be compromised again. Fidelity… it's a virtue that both girls cling to; their _one _saving grace. However despite it all, their minds wander a little too often and they allow themselves to entertain the thought; if only for a second and if only in the dark.

It seemed that absence wasn't what made the heart grow fonder. Quinn and Rachel were living testaments to that. Somehow, in the space the last months they have become dependent on each other, more so, than they know how to handle.

/

It takes several days, but the diva starts to doubt, starts to question _everything_. Every night she's alone in her bedroom with nothing but words, thoughts and memories. They all center on one person and it kills Rachel that that person isn't Finn. Each interaction she's ever had with the distant blonde seems to cut and scratch at her consciousness. The singer can't concentrate. She can't bring herself to _do _anything. Her camcorder lay untouched on her wooden desk and her morning exercises have long since been abandoned. The brunette was always so _tired. _Most times, _just _as her eyes close and sleep begins to come, she experiences a series of blurred images. It happens so fast that she can barely discern anything. The short girl can hear laughing and yelling in the background. And she thinks that she remembers a black diagram on mahogany walls. Rachel has tried several times to reproduce the image but it doesn't come out correctly. There's a sense of longing, as she swears that she can feel a soft weight covering her body and a warm tear land on her face. Her lips feel warm but she can't make out the face behind her eyelids.

The pencil in her hand scratches at the barely held together notepad. The singer desperately wants to get rid of the _funk_ she's in because none of it makes sense. It was impossible. _This_ wasn't supposed to be what she wanted…except for the fact that _it was._

The truth was that Rachel has no plan this time. She doesn't even know how she ended up here. The diva was standing in front of the glee club with nothing but a disheveled appearance and a slightly insane expression. She takes a breath, trying to find the place in herself where the music comes from. In the haze she can hear Mr Schue speak.

"Ok guys! Rachel has written a song that she wants to share with us. So let's give her the floor."

_Breathe... _The starting notes filter through and Richard, Brad or whatever the accompanist name was, gave her a slight nod. The singer counts the beat, waiting for her start. She's not looking anywhere in particular. She doesn't want to give anything away. However there are a few faces that stand out. From Santana's suspicious onceover to Finn's adoring smile. It makes her uncomfortable. Then, there's Quinn who is trying her damnedest to look away. The blonde _is_ curious and cautious and Rachel doesn't need to see those green eyes to know that. Her voice starts slowly. She meets the gaze of every glee member, smiling to an enthused Kurt.

Over mountains and sky blue seas

On great circles, will you watch for me?

Turning her face to the ceiling, the brunette closes her eyes. She lets the strange emotions flow through. _Something_ manages to leak through her voice.

The sweetest feeling I've got inside

I just can't wait to get lost in your eyes

And in the space of a second the singer has somehow moved into Quinn's line of sight. The only way for the softball player to not _look _would be to turn her whole body around and _that, _would be far too obvious. Instead her posture is rigid and stick straight. Rachel's her eyes flicker open. Brown eyes clash with intense greens. There's a question in the ex-cheerleader's face. _Why? _

The diva does not answer… Instead there's only a small shake of her head. Rachel turns away, facing the entire group. The lines come out softly but with weighted meaning. Everyone is captivated, even Mr Schue because it wasn't the powerhouse voice that was blowing them away this time. It's the message.

And all these words that you meant to say

Held in silence day after day

Words of kindness that our poor hearts crave

Please, don't keep them hidden away

As each word of the chorus was sung, Quinn felt her fists tighten. When she has the courage, she finally looks down, only to see crescent shaped indentations in her palm. It is a motion that does not go unnoticed by the short singer or the pensive Latina. The blonde _knows_ that the song isn't for everyone despite the front that the diva was putting up. It was an alternate form of conversation that only they spoke ranging from: saying one thing and meaning the other, to looking away and feeling more exposed than ever.

The lyrics and tone of the song managed to strike a chord within the softball player, resonating throughout her being. Was there ever any doubt? For once she doesn't lie to herself. The blonde admits that she _is_ affected and that _that _is the problem. She lets her eyes trace the diva's face… Rachel shudders she can feel it like an invisible caress. The next verse comes out a little breathy and a little softer. But the sincerity doesn't change; it's an ever-present fixture that Quinn tries to ignore.

Sing it out so I can finally breathe in

I can take in all the same

Holding out for something I believe in

All I really need today

The blonde tries to ignore it and she fails. Her breath catches as the brunette turns to give her a lingering glance. Rachel's brown eyes are clouded over as she sings the lines. The diva's hands wring slightly and her voice is solemn, confused and pleading all at the same time. Quinn can't help but flinch.

I want to free your heart, I want to see your heart

Please, don't keep your heart hidden away

She's captivated as the diva shakes her head disappointedly before turning away. There's a small stab of hurt watching the shorter girl move away. But the softball player simply stares at the carpet where Rachel used to stand. Turnaround was fair play. Her ears were still keyed into the music and the brunette's singing. They always were. By now, the short girl was standing back in her beginning spot, facing everyone. Some wore slightly confused looks whilst others didn't read too much into it and just enjoyed the song.

You're a wonder, how bright you shine

A flickered candle in a short lifetime

A secret dreamer that never shows

The brunette swallows. It didn't matter that they weren't speaking, either way Rachel had some kind of faith in the blonde. There's a certainty in her stance as she sings. _Quinn was so much more than just the prettiest girl... _

If no one sees you then nobody knows

With those words the blonde's gaze snapped up to meet hers. She wasn't angry, just taken aback as they both relived a memory.

-Flashback-

It was before things got complicated, before awareness and chance feelings had started to dictate their every action. The two girls were at Carl's ice-creamery. It was a Thursday, so as expected Quinn sat in_ her _booth with her homework laid out whilst Rachel cleaned up the store. The low whine of the machines is the background soundtrack. Sometimes one of them would hum a tune; sometimes they would break into a collaboration using Rachel's voice and Quinn's makeshift tapping of various glass cups. It's simple and it's easy. They're smiling, unreservedly.

_In the past, _those moments were more than enough. That afternoon was a particularly slow day. The blonde was exhausted from Sue's psychotic practices. Her head leaned back as she stretched her neck trying to soothe the muscle strain. The only thing that kept most of the girls going was the fact that they were _winning._ In those games, Quinn felt more alive than she had ever been in Cheerios. As she reached the mount she always heard a cheer that could only belong to one person. Her body almost always tenses and she wonders why Rachel was looking her way. Finn was to the right, scoring touchdowns with his team. It was alarming because although she never raised her head, it was in _those_ instances that she managed to hit the ball into the outfield, further than anyone had expected. The scientific method suggests that the presence of one, Rachel Berry is the key variable in those circumstances. A frustrated groan is emitted and the blonde barely registers the small shadow cast over her as Rachel's voice washes over.

"Quinn, have you taken any thoughts as to which colleges you'll be applying to after you graduate?"

With that, the ex-cheerleader cracks one eye open. Yep. The diva was now sitting opposite her flipping curiously through her work and textbooks. There was a genuine interest in her expression as she scrunched her nose at some of the chemistry equations. Quinn tries not to snicker. They were in the same AP classes. Rachel Berry excelled at many things but apparently science wasn't her field of interest. The more and more the blonde stared, unbidden thoughts spring to mind. _Cute. Endearing. Talented. _She shakes the thoughts away as quick as they come. Instead the ex-captain rolls her head down so that she's face to face with the diva. Her fingers tap the booth's table as she asks tiredly.

"No. Who does all that this early in the year anyway? I doubt anyone actually knows what they want yet."

"Julliard. Early entry. Then a summer as an understudy before I light up Broadway. I have to admit the idea of being an understudy doesn't excite me unless the actress is Patti Lupone or something but Daddy always say that we've got start somewhere. Of course with my talents – "

Rachel speaks instantaneously. There's no gap for thought as she reels off her 9-year plan. Both excitement and self-assuredness covered her expression. Quinn couldn't help but smirk at enthusiasm that lurked behind those brown eyes and the diva's barely controlled need to bounce in her seat. The blonde lets her go on for a while longer. She wonders if the singer would run out of air. Rachel was now talking about a future Broadway project that she would be interested in, so Quinn doubted it. Funnily enough, she didn't mind. Sure, it was way too much information but there was an underlying trust that remained. Sometime down the line, Rachel had begun to see the ex-cheerleader as a confidant. With each description and word, the blonde seemed to relax, letting go of her thoughts because she could just _listen._ She didn't have to think. Towards the end of diva's spiel, she managed to sound out amusedly.

"OK Berry I get it. _Clearly_ you're the exception to my statement."

The singer met the blonde's gaze confidently. Her hand makes a flourishing gesture in the air.

"Well of course Quinn. The show waits for no one."

There's a scoff and an eye roll as the softball player settled into her seat. A small smile tugs on her lips. She began twirling a pencil around her finger as she stared at a spot on the wall behind the singer. Rachel finds herself captivated by the movement as she took a breath. Her palms were flat on the table.

"What do you want Quinn?"

The blonde broke her concentration and turned to meet the singer's gaze. The low hum is consistent but they _still_ managed to hear each other's breathing. Quinn stares across the table.

_Sense. Control. To be able to ignore you…_

There's a gap and they both swallow. The room seems a little warmer. Eventually the words fall from the ex-cheerleader's lips.

"To get out of Lima."

The statement is short and Rachel tilts her head. It wasn't the answer she was looking for but it was the one she had expected. The determination in the blonde's eyes is palpable and the diva can't help but shake her head. Quinn had to have higher aspirations than that. She was much too gifted not to. It's one of the numerous times that the Rachel questions why the ex-captain couldn't accept that she was more than her looks. Holding her gaze, the brunette responds without hesitation.

"Well that's going to happen no matter what. You're obviously smart enough. After all, you are on the honor roll. But what do you _want _for yourself, Quinn? What do you want to be?"

The blonde turns her head away. She hadn't really thought about it. Her grades were good; she's not deluded enough to think otherwise, but was there really something she wanted to spend her life on? Before she could give a response the singer had one had held up haltingly. Her voice was firm.

"And you are _not_ going to be a real estate agent."

Quinn rolled her eyes, running a hand through her hair. It astounds the softball player that her reservation isn't with revealing such information to the brunette but with her inability to imagine her own future. Rachel attempts to push through the silence. She doesn't question why she cares. If she does she'll become lost. The singer just wants to show the pianist the possibilities. The singer wants the blonde to dream.

"Lawyer?"

There's a shake of the head and a bored answer. 

"Santana's calling."

Rachel paused, taking the time to filter the image. Surprisingly, it's exactly what she envisions for the Latina. The fiery ex-cheerleader would be a force to be reckoned with. The brunette felt sorry for the opposition already.

"That's fitting."

Quinn gave a nod, focusing on the movement of the pencil in, out and around her hand.

"Music?"

Unconsciously, the diva holds her breath. The answer means something to her but Quinn doesn't say anything, rejecting the idea. She loved glee. She loved the piano. She wouldn't stop playing just because she got older. However, music wasn't a career choice for her. She didn't, couldn't see it that way. It was more of an escape and it would cease to be one if she attended to it, certain hours of every day. That's not to say the Rachel saw it as a job. But they were _different_. Broadway would miss the diva; she _belonged _there.

It takes a while but the eventually blonde speaks up. Her voice is low and measured. There's passion behind her eyes that takes Rachel's breath away.

"…There's a shortage of doctors, you know. In a few states, some have to work double the maximum hours to manage the patient load…"

Quinn stops for a moment, holding the shorter girl's gaze.

"Now you know something about me, Berry."

Rachel feels a flush run up her neck and wonders if it's obvious. The diva feels every inch of her exposed skin jump under Quinn's intense gaze. The blonde leans back. Her attention is demanding, and the singer feels as if she had no secrets. Against such penetrating focus, the brunette can't help the nervous question.

"What?"

A mouth opens to say something but stops. It's disturbingly easy for the ex-captain's control to slip. So instead she looks away resignedly and murmurs to herself.

"Nothing..."

Whatever it was, it was left unsaid.

-End Flashback-

Rachel's voice brings them both back to the present. This time the diva isn't hiding anything. Her voice gets slightly louder and the emotions become more obvious. The words come out thick and with a quiet force. Her eyes are closed, and a tear escapes. The blonde can't stop _looking._ She could feel her throat is closing and all she was doing was _sitting there_. Their eyes hold and they shift in their places.

And all these words you were meant to say

Held in silence day after day

Words of kindness that our poor hearts crave

Please, don't keep them hidden away

_I can't. _Quinn took a deep breath as Rachel refused to look her way. Santana has an annoyed expression on her face whilst Brittany tries to calm her down. The diva has one hand on her diaphragm from the strain of the song as she sings.

Sing it out so I can finally breathe in

I can take in all the same

Reaching out for _someone_ I believe in

All I really need today

She finally stops to give the blonde a glance. Her brown eyes are sad and pleading, what for, she had no idea. The truth was that she didn't even know why she was doing this or what she had expected from this impromptu performance. The feelings just needed to get _out._ Quinn was stoic in her seat. Internally, she was fracturing. Her jaws clenched with the final lines of the song. The diva's voice softens with each word; it only makes the request more piercing.

I want to feel your love, will you reveal your love?

Please, don't keep your love hidden away

I want to free your heart, I want to see your heart

Please, don't keep your heart hidden away

At the end, Rachel ignores the clapping, heading straight for her seat. The praises and congratulations don't make it to her ears. Her mind is simply going over every inch of the song and the blonde's minute reactions. Finn places an arm around her shoulders concernedly, she's breathing heavily. She's _very aware _of the frozen ex-cheerleader beside her. Rachel wants to reach for one of the pale tightly fisted hands. Quinn stares at the wall, her heart is racing and the words repeat in her mind_. Please, don't keep your heart hidden away_. She wants to collapse into her seat and just _talk_ to the singer.

In the end, they are only _wants_ that doesn't happen.

/

Another week manages to crawl by.

This time Rachel finds herself in the school's cafeteria. Her perfectly made vegan meal is ignored as she stares ahead. Finn was speaking with Quinn. It seemed to be a friendly enough discussion as the footballer gestures widely. It hurts the brunette to see the familiar eye roll and small chuckle on the blonde's face when she's not there to bring it out. It seemed that during the last months she had come to brand those rare unguarded responses as _hers. _An unspeakable anger rises up in her and her eye starts to twitch. She haphazardly tries to smooth out the crinkles in her skirt. The sad part is that she's not sure who her ire is directed to.

"Jealousy doesn't look good on you, manhands."

Santana's drawl sounds out as she slides on the bench next to the diva. There's a knowing smirk on her face as she reaches over for one of the brunette's cookies. Rachel doesn't bother to stop her. A stolen biscuit was the last thing on her mind. Brittany looked on wearily as she moved to the diva's other side. The singer couldn't help but snicker when the Latina blanched at the taste. _Serves her right…. _When it was clear that the taller girl wouldn't go away on her own the brunette sighed, giving her a cursory glance.

"What do you want, Santana?"

Without waiting for an answer Rachel returns her sight to the blonde and the footballer on the other side of the room. Annoyed, Santana shook her head to herself. This was going to be a long day. The Latina clicked her fingers impatiently in front of the singer's face. Her tone was sarcastic.

"I wants to help you. But _first_ of all, you need to stop glaring daggers at your ridiculously dumb boyfriend."

The insult comes out like butter. Santana doesn't even bat an eyelash. She's more interested in the furrowed brows and slight reddening of the singer's cheek as she drug her attention away from the chatting duo. The Latina notes that the shorter girl hasn't jumped up in defense, both of herself and Finn. Perhaps this wasn't hopeless after all. Rachel, on the other hand, isn't really thinking. At that moment she didn't care if Santana felt like attacking the footballer. It was disconcerting because she couldn't explain why_. _Even as she stares at the Latina, she can still see Quinn from the corner of her eye. Once again Santana snaps her fingers.

"Good. Now let go off that pesky green monster of yours long enough to listen to what I'm going to say."

Rachel laughs hollowly. She's shaking her head.

"Santana I think you've taken one too many softballs to the head. I'm not envious of Quinn. Finn loves me. He's not interested in her."

Santana gives a frustrated groan as the singer angles herself to the other direction. Why did they have to be so freaking stubborn? Instead of venting like she so badly wanted, the Latina crossed her arms, staring down at the shorter girl.

"Ok. For the sake of this conversation let say that that's true. But Q isn't whom you're jealous of."

Silence. Rachel doesn't move. Her lips press into a thin line as her head shakes minutely. A demure laugh can be heard from the distance. Accidentally, Quinn looks her way. There's a look of confusion on her face as the blonde registers that it was actually the Latina sitting next to the diva. That couldn't be good. Unconsciously, her gaze wanders back to singer. The moment shocks both of them, as it's the first sign of acknowledgement in weeks. It's also striking because it's enough to make the ex-captain feel guilty, like she wasn't supposed to be here with Finn, like she was betraying Rachel in some strange way. It takes a little longer before the singer's gaze falls to the table as well. Santana rolls her eyes, leaning closer. She makes sure that every word has an impact.

"It must really annoy you that Q would rather talk to and spend _copious _amounts of time with your boy toy than talk to you."

For once there isn't any mockery in her tone, only an exasperated sense of knowing. It catches the diva off guard as she looks away with a sharp swallow.

"I don't suppose I know what you're talking about."

The denial is weak and unbelievable even to her own ears. Near her kindness quota for the day, Santana let her palm slam on the lunch table.

"Cut the crap, Berry. I'm not stupid."

Rachel huffs. Without her control, she turns in Quinn's direction again. It's just in time to see the ex-cheerleader and Finn leave the cafeteria. The diva's fists clenched. At this point the Latina was out of steam. She gives the singer one last push. Her voice is tired.

"Look, just go. Follow them. Check it out_. I don't care_. You might finally understand."

There's only a second of thought before Rachel Barbra Berry makes a reappearance. The singer's features rearrange itself into a determined focus. Her eyes narrows and she nods to herself. Steeling her body, she barrels towards the door.

/

"Rach! Wait."

The diva stops. Behind her Brittany jogs up, grabbing one of her hands. Rachel can't bring herself to reprimand the tall dancer because her blue eyes are so open and so innocent. There's a simplicity that the singer envies. So instead, she lets her shoulder drops and asks kindly.

"Brittany, what is it?"

"She's worth it."

The statement comes out without any hesitation. Brittany's holds the singer in place with her soft smile. The diva's eyes widen as she takes a small step back.

"What? _Who?_"

Rachel asks. Deep down, she thinks that she already knows the answer. The tall dancer recognizes that the diva knows as well, but she gives her what she needs. Brittany tilts head understandingly, as she brings the name out into the open.

"Quinn."

A couple of deep breaths are taken as the diva adjusts. She didn't expect the bluntness, somehow when spoken aloud it made it more real. Her body starts to shake. But Brittany does nothing but hold on, as she explains.

"When we were five, Quinn was the only one to help me with Lord Tubbington, cos San was at Spanish camp."

The story is touching and not entirely surprising. The brunette _knew_ who the ex-head Cheerio was and who she pretended to be. She understood the difference. Rachel softened as she tried to placate the dancer.

"Brittany with all due respect –"

Rachel does not get to finish. The dancer seems to understand the denial that is about to come out so she shakes her head with emphasis, capturing the singer's attention.

"For me, it was Artie or Santana. For you, it's Finn or Quinn. You're going to hurt one of them no matter what. I picked wrong, but San loves me anyway."

Brittany glances over at the bored Latina a few tables away. Her expression is filled with reverence and care. Rachel feels as if she's intruding on something beautiful. It's a moment of lucidity for the dancer as she speaks confidently; she, unlike so many of McKinley's other students, possessed clarity. It's only then that Rachel _finally _grasped the immensity of the girl's intelligence, all that Quinn had alluded to in the past. Book smarts _weren't_ everything. The singer falters. It sounds so simple, so easy coming from the dancer's mouth. Blue eyes pierce through browns. Brittany bends a little so they're level. Her voice is strong and assured. She gives the diva's hand a gentle squeeze.

"Don't make Quinn go through the same. She probably will… but don't make her."

After that, it's like a switch. Brittany returns to her normal happy go-lucky self. Any trace of seriousness is gone. She starts to ask questions about how people made curly fries. Was there really a bunch of curly potatoes?

/

The dancer eventually makes it back to her darker counterpart. Once she's settled in the Latina's arms she turns to say.

"San you should have been nicer to Rach. That wasn't nice"

Santana rolled her eyes. In her mind she had been rather sympathetic to the brunette. She could have been worse. Nuzzling the tall blonde's shoulder, the Latina lets out a grunt.

"What Britt? I was just helping Q. The dwarf needs to hurry up, figure shit out already. This whole thing is becoming like some sort of Greek tragedy."

A pause. Blue eyes brighten with excitement and the dancer begins to bounce. Santana smiles amusedly. It's nothing like any of her other expressions. There's no sneer, or scorn as she falls for every feature of the tall blonde _all over again_. Brittany finally blurts out.

"Wait, that's when it's really really sad right?"

Another gap. The Latina looks up, surprise marring her expression. Santana had expected to have to explain the reference to the blonde. Instead, all she asks is one amazed question.

"…Have you been reading?"

Brittany nods, a faint blush appearing. Her hand goes to rub her neck. This is the first time she's been self-conscious. It was common knowledge in the school that she wasn't the brightest student and that had been all right because she had Santana. The Latina would bite the head of anyone who even looked at her wrong. Still, Brittany understands that times had to change.

"Yeah. My dad started showing me college applications. Mom said that if I wanted to keep up with you I had know more stuff. Stuff other than cat diseases."

The dancer meets the Latina's shocked gaze. She smiles happily, placing a hand on Santana's cheek. The fiery girl melts into it. Brittany's head leans forward to softly murmur.

"One day you won't need to explain everything to me anymore."

It takes a moment for the words to sink in. When it does Santana shakes her head. Her hands go to grab the pale palm on her cheek, warmly clasping as she brings their combined limbs onto her lap. This time _she_ leans toward the dancer. Her lips graze Brittany's face and electricity travels through their cells. She's honest because there isn't anything else to _be_, around the tall blonde. In the most frightening of ways, the innocent dancer makes her _better._

"Can I tell you something? ...I'm not looking forward to that day."

Santana pulls back, she shares a soft grin with Brittany. Unspoken words of love are transferred as she places a chaste kiss on the dancer's hand. They're _good._ The girls weren't out to the school but they _were_ together… Together they stood up to walk to their next class. Just as they reached a corner, the Latina lifted their conjoined pinkies. Her brown eyes lightly sparkled.

"Oh, and Britt? Stop reading. You don't ever need to change."

Santana and Brittany both hope that their captain learns to embrace this. They hope that the diva is strong enough to punch through Quinn's defenses.

/

By the time Rachel reaches the auditorium, she deflates a little and her movements are slower. The earlier bravado disappears as she hides behind the auditorium doors. But, all her thoughts disappear when she sees the stage. Right there, in the center, Finn was hugging Quinn. The diva stiffened, her heart got faster, no longer content in her ribcage. The twitch was back and she's watching through another's eyes. Her vision is fixated on how close the duo were standing and how the ex-cheerleader wasn't pushing the clumsy footballer away.

The singer stayed hidden, as Finn walked out and right past her without noticing. It's only then, that she returns to herself. The haze has cleared but the pressure on her chest is still present. This time when she looks into the auditorium, only the softball player is present. Quinn was sitting in front of the piano yet again; she had a pensive look on her face. Rachel wished that she could think straight and be reasonable but she couldn't. The mental picture of the footballer and the ex-head cheerleader has been permanently burned into the back of her mind. She hears her own voice before she registers anything. It's not her brain driving this conversation.

"Quinn! How could you?"

The blonde springs up at the tone. She recognizes the diva's voice. Green eyes watch cautiously as the brunette climbs on stage. As inconspicuously as possible the taller girl steps in front of the piano. On the edge of the large black instrument was sheet music, all the songs she had written for Finn. In this particular second, the pianist questions why she even kept them. Sentimentality, necessity or _stupidity_, pick one. Quinn feels a sense of dread and she hopes that she's enough of a distraction for the singer. Her arms cross as she adopts an annoyed stance.

"You might want to explain yourself before you start throwing accusations around, Berry."

The comment only serves to infuriate the irate diva even more. Rachel stands toe to toe with the blonde. Quinn might be the HBIC but even she has trouble resisting the urge to wilt under the singer's glare. For some reason she feels a sense of hurt in the pit of her stomach. The brunette clearly thought that Quinn was capable of inflicting such pain. The ex-cheerleader registers the angry finger pointed in her direction.

"You lied to me. _You_ told me that there was nothing going on between you and Finn."

Exasperated, Quinn shakes her head. Were they destined to walk in circles about this? Part of her wonders why the footballer means _that _much to the singer. It causes an uncomfortable feeling in her gut. Quinn reels off a short reply. She didn't need to explain herself over this, _not again_.

"There isn't."

"Then, what were you guys doing just then? Everyone notices you know, how you two just seem to disappear into a room, alone. What could be so important that you have to spend that much time with him?"

_And not me!_ The enraged thought continues in Rachel's head. She would never bring herself to say it. Her chest heaves under her perfectly buttoned blouse and argyle sweater. Quinn tears her eyes away, berating herself in the process. She needs more control but she knows that she won't get it. It's the same thing that the blonde has been praying for since the Christmas party. One of her hands grips the material of her blue baby doll dress; the other brushes a stray blonde lock away. By now she realizes that perhaps, control just isn't an option with Rachel Berry. Maybe, God would let her give in just this _once, _maybe she was _supposed to_…

However, the singer's anger removes the idea from her mind instantly. Quinn sighs, looking at the shorter girl in a dry manner.

"What are you stalking us or something? Finn and I are _friends_ we're allowed to talk."

The softball player decides she's done with this. The footballer could explain it to his girlfriend himself. With every word of defense, her will to push her feelings down slackened. Push and pull, something has got to give. The blonde just had to make sure it _wasn't_ the truth. Turning away from the brunette, she grabbed the sheet music, making sure that it was out of the diva's range. The blonde must be so concentrated on this task because when she turns around she is surprised by Rachel's sudden proximity. She's caught off-guard by the fact that she could just so easily lean down and ...

The brunette wasn't ready to be pushed away. When she had been presented with Quinn's back, she snapped. She stepped forward in her haste and was now feeling the full effects. From this position, Rachel could see how the blonde's eyes seem to darken, how the pianist's body fought with her own mind. There was so much conflict in the Quinn's frame and also little resolution. The end result was an extremely taut figure, trapped in the fight or flight response. The ex-captain wouldn't _fight_ and ashamedly, she's has lost the self-discipline to _run_. Without purpose, the diva's hand moves to cup the ex-captain's jaw. Rachel can feel the muscles working under her palm as her whole body burns under full force of those green orbs. Swallowing becomes a difficulty for both of them and Quinn's brain is yelling at her limbs to run, jump, or even_ crawl away_!

Neurons fired and messages were sent. Apparently, it was nothing but the wrong ones because the ex-cheerleader wasn't moving away. Instead her grip on the papers had loosened. Sheet music scattered at their feet. The blonde stares despondently at the floor before consciousness returns and she moves rapidly to pick them up. She would analyze the reasons behind her brief pause later. Her arms sweep to collect the scattered songs. In the corner of her eye she can see Rachel dropping to help. Even in disagreements they both felt the imperative to help each other. Like _always, _the blonde thinks that she doesn't want the assistance. This time, the thought is more powerful than others. A silent yell echoes through her mind. _No! _For all her athletic reflexes Quinn's not fast enough to prevent it. Brown eyes scan the sheet. A head tilts in confusion as a small tan hand grabs another. _Read. Read. Read…_

Rachel's brows furrow and her eyes widen. She's on her knees on the stage as her hand shoots out for another page, and _another…_ Each time she does the movement is faster, more erratic. She's desperate to prove her sight and her brain wrong. The sounds of her shallow anxious breathing fill the room. The pumping of her heart is _so very _loud in her ears. Quinn can pinpoint the diva's exact moment of realization. The blonde has long since given up on trying to retrieve the musical documents, now upright, leant against the piano. She imagines that she's going to need all the strength she can get because she's not sure how to explain this away. She's not even sure if she _can. _Rachel's voice comes out low and foreign even to her own ears.

"What…what are these?"

Quinn stares hard at the other girl. A breath is expelled and the softball player makes an active decision to give the brunette _this one_.

"You don't need me to tell you."

Rachel nods numbly. Her eyes are unfocussed as they drift across the neatly penciled notes. The paper contained writing that was far too sophisticated to be that of the footballer. The compositions plays in her mind and it's _does not _soothe. The diva _wants_ to be surprised. She _wants_ to punch, yell and scream. Instead, tan fingers graze the graphite symbols. She only states what she already knows.

"These are the music for the songs in Nationals, Finn's apology and even the plans for my birthday."

It takes a moment but she eventually asks.

"What am I missing, Quinn?"

The blonde doesn't say anything and it only infuriates the tiny girl even more. For the first time since she's seen the music, her temper leaks through. There's a slightly hysterical tone in her voice because right now she _needs honesty. _She needs it or she's going to fall apart.

"What else, Quinn!"

The softball player recognizes this; she recognizes a lot of things. For example, like the fact that the brunette had to have known on some level, and just chose to ignore it. Rachel had pushed the knowledge away until it barely was even a part of her consciousness. And she wasn't the only one. Quinn had made excuses, discarded her doubts and ignored her self-preservation instincts. For the both of them, it was done unconsciously so they could _continue_, so they could just _be… _Because awareness? _That_ destroyed everything…and now there was nothing left. The softball player released the answer.

"Your first date...at the carnival."

Rachel shook. It was the final nail to the coffin, the straw that broke the camel's back, _whatever. _It was enough. Tears welled up and fists clenched. Sad eyes glared at Quinn. For the first time in a while the blonde isn't strong. She lets go of the mask; if only for a second and her expression became kind and sympathetic. There was a sense of care in her green eyes. At the sight, _the singer lost it. _

"I can't believe you did this. Was it all just a game to you? Is Santana going to come around to slushie my face when I leave? I _trusted _you, Quinn!"

The blonde stiffened at the blind accusations. Her glare returned at the insults. She didn't take well to being attacked. Quinn rose to her full height and took a few steps towards the singer. Rachel flinched. The blonde looked menacing, she looked like the person that had thrown frozen corn syrup in her face all those years ago. Behind all the ex-cheerleader's layers _wa_s hurt. Rachel wished that she didn't know that secret, because then she wouldn't feel bad. Quinn shook her head. Tears were not going to come. She wouldn't let it. There was an invisible force twisting all her vital organs and she rounded on the shorter girl. The softball player invaded the diva's personal space, forcing her to look up and reducing any semblance of _distance_.

"Listen to yourself, _Rachel_. Stop jeopardizing everything! Finn loves you. I JUST helped him express himself."

Silence. The diva shakes her head sadly. Her eyes are defiant as she stares back. The voice she uses is so low that you can barely hear it. There are few breaks in her speech as she loses her composure. The girls are not themselves because Rachel Berry's voice _didn't _shake and Quinn Fabray's hands _do not_ tremble.

"I knew you that you had a hard time being honest. But until now, I didn't know you were _that_ good at lying, Quinn… Especially to yourself."

The blonde looks up to the ceiling because she needs a pause. This is harder than it should be. A hollow laugh bubbles in her throat. When she looks down at the diva, there's a small sneer on her face.

"You! You…_Rachel_, do _not_ get to tell me if I'm lying or not."

Green eyes flash, angrily. Pale hands run through short blonde locks roughly. The small aches ground her and the ex-captain remembers that she can't lose it. She can't, because so much of her actions and responses are tied to the stubborn little singer in front of her. Bringing more pain into those brown orbs felt wrong. Quinn knows that it would damage to her own psyche as well if she did. Instead she turns to face the brunette. She swallows and speaks calmly.

"I don't know how many times I have to say this before it gets through that thick skull of yours. But. Finn. Loves. _You!"_

The last words are emphasized, enunciated and absolute. _I don't care. _The rebellious jumps into Rachel's mind. It shocks her so much that she has to pause. Finn was _supposed _to be everything. The footballer had helped her find herself when she had laryngitis and before Regionals last year with her comeback. He was the first to treat her kindly. He was her first love. When did that stop being _enough?_ The diva can barely speak through her tears. There's a question that she realizes she needs an answer to.

"And what about you Quinn?"

Pause. A slow breath is taken. The blonde engages her mask again. The words come out as distant and without passion.

"I have nothing to do with this."

Rachel squared her shoulders, moving one step closer.

"Why did you help him?"

The pianist clenches her jaw, staying perfectly still. She tries to ignore the way her body responds to the reduced distance. Rachel looks up, tilting her head. Brown eyes bore into icy greens.

"What did you hope to gain from it?"

Silence. Nothing. The diva takes another step closer. Quinn can feel her muscles straining as her body stays taut. There's barely any space in between them. They shared the same air and they shared the same loss of control. Rachel breathes. The blonde feels the warmness dance pass her neck and her eyelashes flutter at the sensation. Small tan hands caress smooth pale cheeks. The brunette stands on her toes and pressed their foreheads against each other's. The whisper causes both of them to shudder.

"Why, Quinn. _Why?"_

There's nothing that _can _be said. For a moment, they stay in that position, unwilling and _unable to leave_. The two girls are holding onto this like a lost sailor to dry land. Rachel slides her hands across so that they were now clasped around the ex-cheerleader's neck. The singer's eyes close. _Please, don't run._ Shallow breathing. Moisture gathers around green orbs. _Please, don't make me stay... _

The blonde pulls back to look into the singer's browns. There's no sound, no speech but a lot of communication. The softball player swallows and there are knives stabbing at the brunette's heart. In a second, Rachel is shaking her head in firm denial, tightening her hold on the taller girl. Her small body pleads _no. _The pianist was going to walk away. Just as Quinn started to reach to remove herself from the singer's hold. The diva gave _in. _At this point, nothing else mattered to her as long as the softball player didn't reject this.

Soft lips pressed against the blonde's. Quinn doesn't push the small singer away, she _can't, _but that doesn't mean she responds either. But _god, _she wants to_. _Heat travels from their head to the rest of their bodies. It's a current that they both can't help but enjoy. The ex-captain has to force her hands back to her thighs, as they itched to find their familiar home around the diva's waist. _Home... _

At the back Rachel's mind, it occurs to her that this isn't the first time they've done this. Her mouth knows exactly what to do and the sensations of the touch doesn't surprise her. A couple of fast-paced images run through her mind, running havoc with her senses. This kiss was everything that Finn's weren't. It wasn't a chore, a prize or something to be bartered with. No. This was something that the brunette would get on her knees and beg for. Her head was swimming with the texture, the pliant body and the smell of _Quinn_. Tentatively her tongue runs across the blonde's bottom lip.

A gasp escaped. In that moment, Rachel decides that she is an opportunist because when it comes to the girl before her, she'll take everything Quinn's willing to give and more. Her tongue slips through, slowly exploring what seems like familiar territory, drawing moans, whimpers and shivers along the _way._ _Loving, touching, squeezing,_ the words that they both sang at one time, never ringed truer than right now. As Rachel pulled back to breathe, the blonde felt her head following. It did so automatically, as if any space would kill her. Brown eyes glittered in amusement.

Rachel refuses to give the blonde an out as she leans forward a second time. Lips were mashed together, with more confidence than the first. The brunette needed this. She _needed _another taste. And Quinn did too. The pianist didn't have the willpower to stop. A tear slides down her face as her tongue moves to caress the diva's demanding one. Saltiness melds into the kiss but Rachel doesn't mind. It's another sign that this is real and not just in her imagination.

The blonde has a different line of thought but the end result is the same. For the brief period of time that their mouths are connected, Quinn wasn't in control. The softball player ignores her self-preservation instincts _one more time_. She gave _in. _Her arms go around the diva's petite waist. For those seconds she was Rachel's to do with as she pleased…

They're so busy with the feelings and their own internal conflicts that neither notice the footballer by the auditorium door. Finn drops his bag, as he tries to convince himself that the image on stage wasn't true. Pain floods his expression as his stomach drops. He's completely frozen. Blood drained from his face as his big shoulders started to drop.

Across the audience seats and on the stage, Rachel releases the blonde. They're both breathing heavily, trying to get themselves under control. It's a lost cause, but the girls try anyway. They're too stubborn not to. The brunette has a brilliant smile on her face as she chokes out.

"I think… I feel something for you Quinn and I _know_ that I can't stand it when we don't speak. Say you'll try this, whatever it is. Just say yes. _Please._"

_Breathe. Breathe. Breathe. _The ex-cheerleader feels the tears build up again. She shut her eyes tightly as everything becomes _harder_. The world returns to mind.

"…Finn loves you… I can't."

Quinn can't stand to see the singer's smile fall. It's the first time she becomes a coward turning her head away. Her hands fall from the shorter girl's waist. She's done many things that she's not proud of. The pianist has been cruel. She's mocked those that didn't deserve it. But the harshest thing she's done thus far is to ignore the quietly trembling head nestled by her neck. The hardest thing is to ignore the hands that clutched at her cardigan.

"Rachel I did all this to help Finn. That's all."

The singer raises her head. Tears stream down her face. Unlike the blonde, emotions aren't her enemy. She'll wear them on her sleeve. She'll let them control her. But right now, everything just builds on the ache in her chest. Slowly, she pushes the softball player away. Her thoughts are jumbled. She can't stop shaking her head as her legs shakily carry her backwards.

"Rachel…"

Ashamed, Quinn feels herself follow. Without thought her hand tries to reach across to wipe away the singer's tears. However at the motion, the brunette jumps holding her hand out haltingly.

"Don't!"

Her tone is broken and the blonde listens to the command. It's the least she can do.

"Just stay away from me."

The request is like a blow to the stomach and Quinn understands. _Everything freaking hurts. _Green eyes hold desolate browns. Rachel lifts her chin up with muted anger. She's holding back her rage. She wants to lash out, punch, kick and yell. But for an inexplicable reason, the singer still wants to protect the softball player. It's a trait she hates herself for at this time. Her voice comes out as low and final.

"You just made your decision, Quinn. From now on, I want you to stop helping Finn, stop telling him what to say and how to act! Don't you get it? Because _of_ you, I didn't fall for him. None of that was _real._ I was with a _lie_ the whole time!"

In that afternoon, three hearts broke. Quinn's as she forces herself to watch the diva run away. Rachel's as she barrels out the side door, crying into her hands. And Finn's as he collapses against the auditorium's doors, hidden from view.

/

Days pass. Rachel does not acknowledge Quinn and the blonde lets it happen. On the outside, it may seem as nothing has changed. The diva still powered through every solo she's been given. Finn still walked his girlfriend to class, giving her the obligatory kiss on the cheek. The softball player still keeps a protective eye on the singer. That's on the outside.

Internally, the brunette is aimless as she goes through the motions. The footballer is seething and betrayed. Finn doesn't understand what he's doing wrong. Why wasn't he good enough? Quinn is fractured, as she uses every Fabray skill she's ever developed to push away her regret.

Now they're sitting in glee rehearsal. It seems like a round circle. Except this time, it's Finn standing at the front with a slightly deranged expression. His eyes burn as he glared at the ex-cheerleader and the quiet lost brunette. His fists whiten as he shuffled on large feet. Puck grabs his guitar wearily as he starts to strum. He didn't know what was going on but last night his boy, Finn, came storming through his room, yelling and _crying_ about cheaters. However now, seeing the similar broken expressions on the two other girls, the big muscled footballer knows that there's another part to this story. It's a little too late because by now, the tall baritone was about to sing and he wasn't going to stop until he got his peace. The beat is fast.

Well I know just what it is you want the way you love and get enough and then you move on

The very first line captures everyone's attention. They're shocked by the fury behind the words. Did something happen? Rachel looks up with a wide-eyed expression whilst Quinn sits straighter. Her eyes narrowed as she stared the footballer down. Finn simply rolls his petulant brown eyes, moving in front of the diva. The normally boyish features are marred by discontent and simmering rage.

You play the game of who you need and learn his name and walk away to find the next one

The fact that the big footballer waves his hand in Quinn's direction does not go unnoticed. The diva gasped, guilt flooding her expression. All her feelings were crushing her. The blonde wants to reach over and comfort her, she wants to say _somethin_g and do _anything._

You say the things you're looking for look past me and door to door

But darling did you think I wouldn't know

Finn shakes his head in disgust as he moved backwards. The emotion in his singing reverberates throughout the room.

I might not be what you want

I'm gonna be your halfway

I might not be what you need

But I'm gonna be the way

I'm never gonna be the thing you want

But I'm gonna be your halfway

I might not be what you need

I'm gonna be your halfway

The footballer locks eyes with his girlfriend. Rachel does not look away because she _is _sorry. But the recent events had become too much and she had neglected the tall baritone. However horrible it sounded, when the brunette is around the blonde, she might as well be a marionette on strings and her unhealthy addiction and emotions towards Quinn was the grand puppeteer.

Nevertheless, Finn did not deserve to find out the way he did. How did he know?

Quinn's expression is icy as she watches the large boy like a hawk. What did he thing he was doing? She did not step back so that he could break the singer. If she wanted that, she would have done it herself. It doesn't faze her that he had found out. It was inevitable, McKinley was a small place and the rumor mill was frenzied. Feelings only mattered if you acted on them. _She didn't. _But, his voice makes it to her ears once more. Once again he's speaking to the diva.

You like to close your eyes and nod and picture her and what she'd say and what she looks like

But all I can think is all the dreams in the world that won't match up to the real thing, the real thing

Finn points to himself as he shakes his head disappointedly. He didn't get it. There was nothing else to give of himself as he held in his hand the remains of their tattered connection. Rachel was talented, beautiful and she made him feel good. The footballer knows that in this relationship, _he _is the lucky one. It had taken two years but he had finally realized that the little ball of energy was everything. Looking at Quinn, he sees a similar understanding but it's also held back by something. She's calculated and fiercely controlled. In his head, he runs through comparisons between him and the blonde. There's not that much of a difference. They're both blinded by Rachel Berry, just in different ways.

I might not be what you want

I'm gonna be your halfway

I might not be what you need

But I'm gonna be the way

I'm never gonna be the thing you want

But I'm gonna be your halfway

I might not be what you need

I'm gonna be your halfway

Kneeling in front of his girlfriend, he latches onto her hand. Finn wished that he could ignore Rachel's slight flinch and reflexive action to pull back. It's the first real sign that she's not his anymore. It's the first real sign that there's something_ wrong_ here. The fact that she's actually showing it tells him more than he needs to know. In his very own words, _this is real. This is happening. _Finally, the footballer lets his pain show and his voice cracks as he sings.

I'm gonna be forever yours

Don't you dare believe her, no

I'm gonna be forever yours

She's always gonna let you go

I would stay up wait the whole night

But she's never gonna show

His anger is channeled into every line. Shockingly, there's no malice in the song. Hurt, rage and betrayal, yes, but not cruelty and not spite. It's exactly what causes the brunette to bow her head as silent sobs rack her frame. The people around her can hear the struggle in her breathing. Beside her, the blonde is flexing the tension from her jaws. Her green eyes flash with regret, guilt and restraint. The reason why everything hits the three people so much is that there's actually truth to the statements. Finn had known Quinn a long time. The pianist could never do this; make herself vulnerable to another person. Her personality alone will wreck the singer. She won't do it. There's pity in his expression as he finishes.

I might not be what you want (I'm gonna be forever yours)

Baby I won't be what you want

I might not be what you need

But I'm gonna be the way ya

I'm never gonna be the thing you want (I'm gonna be forever yours)

But I'm gonna be your halfway

I might not be what you need

But I'm gonna be your halfway

With that, the footballer storms out the door. Rachel stays in her seat. Her eyes are dull and hollow as she stares at her hands. She _could_ chase after Finn but it would be pointless because she had _nothing _to say. After her experiences today, there's no will do argue. Part of her hates herself for destroying the footballer, _again. _The other part is mad with Finn for lying. She's actually _livid_ with him for introducing her to _this _version of Quinn. One that, she couldn't stay away from.

The softball player, on the other hand has no such qualms. She follows the footballer's trail out of the room. Things were not falling apart, not after all this time. Her mind might, but Rachel and Finn would _not. _The diva feels the swish of air from the blonde's fast movements. A sharp breath is taken and she looks up just in time to see the pianist walk away from the room, from her, _again_.

/

"Finn! Get back in there and freaking apologize to Berry."

They only make it a few meters away from the door. Finn has his head against the lockers as small tears ran down his face. Big boys don't cry. But brokenhearted boys_ did. _The blonde softens. She has an iron grip on her expressions but briefly; she wonders what it would be like to let them show. In the second that her brain allows the thought, her hand unconsciously trace her lips. _Rachel. _The whole thing was a mess. Internally, both Finn and Quinn know that neither of them was going to go very far from the choir room. For now, they were still tethered to the confused brunette. It's a burden they _do _share. Finally after what seems like an hour Finn turns and faces the ex-cheerleader. There's disbelief and pain in his eyes.

"I can't believe you did this to me again. I can't believe I trusted you. Was this your plan all along?"

Quinn snickers bitterly. Both of them thought that she had done this on purpose. If she had, then she would have been intelligent enough to protect herself from the _feelings. _As it stood, they were all as wrecked as the others. The blonde brings her cold eyes to the footballer.

"Stop speaking Hudson! You're hurt and that's reasonable, but _God!_ You don't _understand_ anything. This _isn't_ about you. "

The volume shocks them both. Finn swallows and Quinn schools her features. There's fire behind her green orbs as she takes a step to the footballer, roughly grabbing him by his collar. The ex-couple's faces are inches away and she makes sure that _everything _is laid out simply. She makes him listen.

"Look, if I was after Berry, I would be in there telling her how much of an ass you are. _But_ I'm _not_. Santana probably is… But _I'm _not."

Quinn releases her hold and the footballer slowly rights himself. He's now calmer and he _wants_ to believe her because Finn isn't ready to lose Rachel Berry. The tall giant takes a hard look at the blonde. She does not falter; she never does, not when it comes to the diva. There's that surety that he's come to associate with the two girls. They understood each other and it doesn't make him mad anymore. He's not confused by their connection. Tiredly, he ruffles his short dark hair. The defeat in his eyes makes him ten years older.

"I _love _her Quinn. I would do _anything_ for her. Last year I was slow and took advantage of her. Since Nationals I've done everything to make things better for her. We're _good_ together."

The blonde keeps to herself. Finn sees something flash in her green orbs. He doesn't try to convince himself that it wasn't real. That's no longer up for discussion. Quinn looks at him sharply. Her hand makes a small gesture.

"I_ know _that Finn._ I get it."_

"Do you?"

Finn doesn't miss a beat with his question. The pianist is taken aback by the bold question. _Does she? _Silence fills the gap. So many things are contingent on this answer. Her heart jumps for a second as her fists tighten. A frown makes its way onto her features. The footballer stares at the softball player sadly. He may have been _unable_ to express his feelings eloquently but Quinn is actually _unwilling _to show her_s. _Finn knows that he's selfish; he can admit that because he wants Rachel for himself. He's willing to step over the blonde to get to the singer. The footballer moves closer to the ex-cheerleader, and bends awkwardly so that they're level.

"Quinn, you care about her as well or you wouldn't still be here…"

There's a sad smile on his face as he speaks. The words are soft but they have an effect.

"You know, you might even love her but it doesn't matter because you're _not_ willing to step up. _Until_ you're ready to fight for her and _until_ you stop hiding your feelings from _everyone_, I _am _better for Rachel. And I won't let her go without a fight."

Quinn lets out a slight nod. There's no room for pride to show on her face but she _does_ feel it. The ex-captain acknowledges Finn's statements. She knows that they're true. But the thing that the footballer missed out on was the fact that she could do _so _much more damage than he ever could to the singer. Everything has its risks. She's a gambler, but there are some losses that she's not willing to sustain _just to _play the game. In the end it causes her to stand a little straighter as she waved in the direction of the choir room. Her mask reappears like it was never gone.

"…Then, go back in there. Ask her to prom. I promise she'll say yes…"

/

When Quinn makes it back to the rehearsal room, Finn is already kneeling in front of the diva. She can hear the apologies from her position near the door. The singer seems to be mildly catatonic as she looks forward without actually seeing.

"Rach, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have taken out my feelings on you. I saw you and Quinn yesterday, you know, in the auditorium. It hurt. _A lot. _But I love you. We can get through this. Just say yes."

At those words the diva seemed come back a little. The blonde closes her eyes and takes a couple of deep breaths. They both recall the moment in the auditorium. _Say you'll try this, whatever it is. Just say yes._ The singer's voice echoes. Quinn's lips thin as she forces herself to watch. Rachel's eyes start to well up as she tries to shake the tears away. Finn leaned forward.

"Please Rach. We can do this. Go to prom with me."

It's instinctual, but the brunette almost looks to Quinn for _permission. _Brown meets green. The singer swallows. The blonde clenches her jaw and fists. For once, all the glee kids are speechless. They don't really follow the situation but the atmosphere in the room was suffocating. Santana mutters under her breath in Spanish and Brittany's happy smile isn't on her face. Slowly, Rachel forces her attention to Finn. When you don't get the one that you love the most, you find the person that you can love second best. It's won't be perfect, it might not even feel right but it's love nonetheless. The brunette forgets where the quote comes from but she does feel an ache and a fondness for the boy in front of her. She wasn't going to get Quinn… There's a _swallow and a tiny nod._

"…_Ok..."_

/

Hope you enjoyed that. Please don't kill me. What if I actually tell you that all you faberry shippers that you have happiness to look forward to in the next chapter? Quinn just needs one last push. Oh and in season one she seemed to do well in math so I figure she also excels in the sciences.

Forgive the lateness? :D


	13. Chapter 13 Say You're Mine

**Chapter 13 – Say You're Mine**

Wow! I'm blown away by the amount of people reading this. Thanks guys! To _Cali, _I accept! XD We shall find City Hall immediately ;) Glad you're enjoying the fic so much. To _Nightbrainzz, _you're so welcome about Faber Drive. Try Marianas Trench as well, you might like them.

Songs for this chapter in order are: Mess I made by Parachute, I should go by Levi Kraus and Say you're mine by Kate Voegele. Once again, have a listen if you can. The one by Levi makes me so…

/

Darkness falls and in the small town of Lima there are colored streamers and bright lights leading the way to the local high school. It's prom night. Girls are at home, frantically smoothing out the last imaginary wrinkles from their ball gowns. Their father's twirl them around with proud tears. Boys are struggling with their ties. Strong hands fumble with nervous energy. Eventually their mother or sister would walk over to help them, all the while telling them how handsome they look and to treat their date well. Nobody knows what to expect, but everyone wants to make a memory.

/

_**Finn**_is standing outside the Berry's home. His cheeks are red against the cold, but the racing of his heart keeps him warm. As he gathers the courage to knock on the door, the footballer imagines what his date will look like. He envisions that she'll be beautiful no matter what she wears. In his mind, there's a smile on her face as she hugs her father's goodbye before they leave. _In his mind_, he's the person she wants to see. Behind his back he's holding two different corsages away from view. The tall boy takes a deep breath. Everything in life is a choice… his mother told him that.

-Flashback-

The sign on the door said Betty's Florist, for every need and occasion. Finn stood awkwardly as he perused the vibrant plants out on display. He's been here before. Last year, he bought a gardenia with a green ribbon on the recommendation of a certain brunette. It was a successful endeavor, Rachel had been right. He remembered the heartbreaking relief and happiness on Quinn's face as he presented it to her. In that moment the blonde had allowed herself to feel, thinking that someone _finally cared. _There had been brightness in her hazel-green eyes that he had only seen a few times before. As a 17-year-old teenager, he never understood the significance. How did one flower change a person's perspective? Temporarily, the boy became lost in his thoughts and didn't notice the shopkeeper approaching him from the side.

"Hello, young man. I think I remember you, Finn Hudson right? I never forget a face."

The old woman smiled gently as she moved a couple of pots around. The footballer shifted around clumsily. His hands were stuffed in his pockets.

"Yeah."

"Do you know what you're looking for this time, my dear?"

The question hit him square in the chest and he felt his mouth go dry. Finn hears Quinn's voice in his ears, _pink tinged lilies. _As the memory enters in his mind he feels his fist clench. It reminds him of the fact that there were things about Rachel he didn't know or never had the inclination to find out. Betty tilted her head curiously. The boy seemed to be confused about something. There's reluctance and annoyance in his expression. The latter is directed at himself.

"Another gardenia, perhaps?"

"No!"

The answer is said a little too loudly. Finn turned around, making sure to examine each flower and its description. Eventually he makes his way to the lilies section. There's a lump in his throat and a furrow in his brow. His thoughts are a chaotic mess. The footballer contemplates the choices. Pink tinged lilies weren't extravagant or particularly engaging. In fact they were rather common. His neighbor, Mr Rogers had a garden full of them. The footballer didn't understand how this could be the singer's favourite... And it irritates him that Quinn probably _does_. He goes to pick one up.

To the right, he also notices the orchids. _They're nice._ The footballer actually likes the appearance of those. He pictures Rachel wearing one. It's the corsage that he would have chosen _before _the blonde, _before _he supposedly knew better. There's a wide range before him. In the last row, there's a particularly remarkable and fragile pink one. Betty noticed the way the tall boy looked at it and decided to hand it over so that he could inspect it. So many people walked through the doors of her shop, not knowing a thing. They just picked the most expensive or elaborate bouquet that came to mind. It astounds her that this young fellow is taking the time, but then again, something tells her that the turmoil in his life has nothing to do with the plant.

Finn held the orchid. The fact that it was precarious looking and just _barely_ held together, only makes it prettier. The sun's rays seemed to bounce off the lighter edges of the petals. It is a robust shade of pink. Glancing down, there are two different corsages in his hands; his brain and his heart are torn in two. There's a large part of him that wants to ignore everything the blonde's ever told him. He thinks that he should take a risk, because, _sometimes_ people change. The diva might choose him, faults and all. Maybe, just maybe, he could be the one to make her smile. The orchid isn't perfect, in fact to some eyes it might look even a tad scraggly but the footballer feels a strange affinity towards it.

However, that's only _one_ part of him. The other just wants to see the brunette happy. This significantly smaller part trusts in Quinn. His breathing picked up. In comparison, the lily is modest and perfectly arranged. _Untouchable almost. _Finn sighs as he fingers the stem… white _shouldn't _mix so well with a powerful and bold color as pink. By all means, Quinn and Rachel _shouldn't_ get along. However the footballer isn't so blind. He can recognize the fact that _they did_.

"I want to buy both of these."

Placing the objects on the counter, Finn reached for his wallet. For a moment, he's possessed by a strange sense of clarity. Betty looked up in surprise.

"Both?"

The old woman asks confusedly. Finn waits a second before nodding. There's a sad look on his face as he stares into the distance. His voice comes out as a whisper.

"Yeah... She has a choice to make..."

-End Flashback-

/

_**Rachel**_ is sitting on her bed. She's already dressed in her strapless salmon colored dress. The silky material feels foreign and suffocating. From her position, she can see her face in the mirror. Make-up and foundation hides the dark rings around her eyes but it has no effect on the gloom on her face. She can't quite bring herself to be excited, _about anything_. Hiram and Leroy Berry hover worriedly by her door. The disposable cameras that were purchased especially for the occasion hung limply around their wrists. Nestled in small tan hands was a white gardenia with a light green ribbon. It seems to be the only thing that their daughter cares about as _unconsciously_, she brings it closer to her body.

/

In a different district,_**Quinn**_ is playing random notes on her piano. There's boredom and irritation in her expression. The lighting in her room is dim and for the second time since Nationals she feels _lonely... _Her heart _aches_ but it is ignored. Her ability to compartmentalize is _gone_, but she has no use for it anymore. The regret is almost _overpowering_ and she just lets it wash over her. However small, these feelings, these _sensations_ were her only connection to the brunette. It's something that the ex-captain can't quite let go of; a parting gift as the window of opportunity closes to change that chapter. She's not _ready. _A frown marred her face. Dressed in t-shirt and sweatpants, the softball player's hair is in disarray due to disinterest and neglect. Nothing really mattered. The sounds of ivory keys bounce throughout the room. It a string of incoherent tones as Quinn's mind drifts off.

-Flashback-

Quinn, Santana and Brittany are laid out the grass. Their chests heaved with effort after another death trap of a training session. Sue Sylvester's annoyed insults could still be heard from across the field as she walked away with the megaphone attached to her mouth. Apparently on her way to school this morning a political rival had defaced her car. Whilst this was a far cry from a sensible and honorable campaign, the softball players supposed it was fair retribution for the fact that Sue had managed to upset them on public television. Sue's Corner had received a primetime spot with national syndication due to the recent wins of the team. This had driven the coach in such a happy mood that she had foregone some morning trainings. Well… the lenience would now end. Her poor mood meant triple of everything, suicides, batting and pushups and sit-ups.

"Q! You got a date to prom?"

Santana's voice sounded from the right. Slowly the Latina had lifted her head as she leaned on her elbows. The pianist flinched at the mention of the dance. She'd spent most of her week trying to avoid the whole issue, which, mind you, was a hard feat. There were prom queen and king posters _everywhere. _When Quinn walked past them she could hardly believe, how, at one time this shallow façade could have meant _everything. _Her mind goes back to the diva. She stiffens. A moment is taken to breathe _through_ and regulate her systems. In that week, Finn and Rachel had been closer than ever, even if there hadn't been any public displays of affection. In fact most of the time the singer just _barely_ managed one of her forced smiles. It weighed heavily on the blonde as she stared from her spot, unnoticed. In the end, the diva's depression _wasn't_ the most painful part. No… what hurt the most were the rare instances when the footballer _did _do something accidental and the brunette's expression seemed to soften with warmth and a familiar sense of care appears. It's a far cry from the brilliance of her happy features in the past. The ex-cheerleader feels her hands shake and she thinks that she might be suffering from withdrawal. _Control yourself, Fabray. _

"No. I haven't thought about it."

It's a _lie _thatSantana sees straight through. Chocolate eyes narrow in frustration and a hand is run though dark sleek hair. A sigh escapes. Both alpha girls remember a time when they didn't care. The only major difference is, that these days, they can fully acknowledge it was better to be in _it_. For what it was worth, their lives now were _real: _heartbreakingly, painstakingly and ridiculously so. They were being taught how to _feel _and how to_ trust,_ experiencing every little thing that that entailed. Nobody gets it right on the first go, right? The Latina mulls this over before speaking. Her tone is rough.

"Good. You can join me and Britts."

A pause and Quinn raises her eyebrow. _Yeah, because being a third wheel was going to be so fun._ The Latina ignores the look as she holds her position. She takes a glance at the sleeping dancer by her side before explaining.

"I can't take her to prom by myself anyway."

And there it was, the fear, the pain and the utter lack of other _options. _Welcome to Lima, Ohio. The pianist met the heavy gaze of the Latina and it's a battle of wills. They both know each other's views on the issue but the rest was still up in the air. Quinn would protect her friends if they came out. But, as it stood Santana just seemed to be at war with herself. Her hand goes to caress Brittany's cheek. The moment is theirs, _even _if one of them is in a dead sleep, with a small line of drool leaking out. Quinn leans her chin against her knee. Her voice is measured.

"Can't or won't?"

Another gap. Santana turns to face Quinn with a look of disbelief and rage. The pianist _understands _as she shakes her head softly, their gaze fall to their tired companion. This seems to calm the Latina down as she begins to breath normally again. Her head lifts sharply. She's not the only one in this make or break situation. They're both trapped in between two places, but now; it's different to how it was before. Now they realize exactly what they want and they _do want.._. The only other obstacle is their own demons, what they believe _should _happen and what they want to protect their counterparts from. Santana stares at her friend.

"Why haven't you cut the bullshit and told Berry how you really feel?"

The rebuttal question is prompt and profoundly accurate as it strikes a hidden spot in Quinn's mind. It's a place where indecision and memories of the diva cohabitate, slowly eroding her sanity. The blonde's heart begins to pick up as it often does at any mention of the brunette. Her hand itched to trace her lips again. She hates herself for it.

"Rachel has Finn. I can't do that."

A sad smile appears as Santana placed an arm around her friend awkwardly. It felt weird without Brittany as a buffer but Quinn does appreciate it. Her shoulders start to drop as a sense of calm bleeds through the quiet. The use of the brunette's first name doesn't go unnoticed by the Latina as she murmurs lowly.

"Can't or won't?"

Santana uses the blonde's _own_ words against her. It's the same dilemma for the both of them. Quinn nods faintly to herself. There's an answer that she wants to give but as always something stops her. In that moment, she comes to a bitter realization. _Won't. _

She…_won't_ tell the brunette_ and _it has nothing to with capability. Does that make her a weak? A large part of her screams yes. And the logical part of her brain say no. It shows her various scenarios in which she gives in and somehow destroys the diva. _Either way, I'll break your heart someday.._. She's so sure that she'll wreck anything with Rachel just because she _can_. At least with Finn any pain that the singer endures would only be temporary. The pianist barely notices her friend's inquisitive expression. By now, the Latina has woken Brittany up and was in the process of getting to the car park. Santana throws one final look over her shoulder and her voice is firm. It echoes in the blonde's mind.

"Q, you lost you know… you lost _the second_ she started being Rachel instead of Berry."

-End Flashback-

/

"Quinn, honey. Why aren't you in your dress? You're going to be late!"

Judy Fabray rushed up the stairs. She had only just gotten home after purchasing seven rolls of film for the camera. A little excessive, yes, but she still felt as if she had a lot to make up for. At any rate her voice is what brings her daughter out of her depressive reverie. The younger blonde looks up, dumbly. Her eyes are glassy as she tried to get her thoughts under control. Regret could crush a person if you let it and she believed she was stronger than that. _She had to be. _The only other choice was…

Mrs Fabray stopped by the doorway at the sight of her daughter. There was a blind sort of determination in Quinn as she stared at her instrument. Not for the first time, Judy questioned the intelligence of buying the blonde that thing. It is all her daughter ever pays attention to, anymore. Quinn released a slow breath, flexing her stiff fingers. _The conditions of over use..._ Expressing herself hasn't made that much of a difference. She kept seeing the brunette's reactions to her songs.

"I'm not going."

The statement seems out of place.

"Nonsense! Quinnie, you've been looking forward to this since your were old enough to know what prom was."

Judy retorted, taking a seat on the large bed. She's not annoyed, just confused. A part of her has a pretty good idea what this is all about. The older blonde's eyes drift towards the design on the wall. In the clutter that was the softball player's bedroom, it was the only spot that was left open. There was no books or music sheets covering it. Judging by the clear path from the piano to the wall, Judy imagined that neither the image nor her daughter were ever too lonely in this room. Out of the corner, she feels Quinn flinch as the sounds of breathing gets shallower. Hurt hazel greens met tired warm ones. There's a resigned sigh as the younger blonde speaks.

"I'm not that person anymore."

Closing her eyes for a second, Judy brushes a stray strand back. It's not the first time she notices how much her daughter has changed. Quinn was more than she deserved as a mother. Her hands long to hold the younger girl but instead she simply looks up to the ceiling.

"…No ... I don't think you are. Not one person in this town has stayed the same in the last few years."

The two Fabrays share a silence, an understanding. Quinn is trying not to break down. She didn't want to fall into her mother's arms, not about this. If she was being honest, she thinks that she doesn't deserve the comfort. Rachel's pained expression flashes in and out. The softball player remembers the finality in the words '_ok'_ as the diva accepted the footballer's invitation to the dance._ Just stay away from me. _The request cuts into every thought. Her hands clench as a sliver of anger appears. She was _not _this person. Quinn Fabray did not get broken over Rachel Berry...

Judy, on the other hand, _just _watched the scene. _She_'s trying so _hard_ to find the right words, to soothe, too _love_ her daughter. It doesn't come naturally, not after all those years of neglect but she _wants _it to. Her mind drifts to the moment at the start of the year when Quinn had taken her to the side. Her daughter had explained that this process was on both their sides. They had to learn to be a family to each other. The older Fabray draws strength from this. In _the_ moment, words don't fail her and she knows exactly what to say as some confidence returns. 

"Honey it's ok... You know, despite everything your father and I have shown you in the past, it's _not_ a crime to have feelings. It's _not_ wrong to lose yourself in them."

Big words... Quinn sighed, leaning her head against the face of her piano. The coolness of the instrument brings a small comfort to the discord of her thoughts. In this position her face is an inch from the keys. She can actually see the ivory segments fog up with each breath. Her hand reaches up to her eye-level. A small haunting tune starts to play. It takes away all of Judy's thoughts as she feels her shoulders drop upon the bitter smile on her daughter's face. The softball player stares ahead.

"It's not that easy though, is it?"

Judy opens her mouth and nothing comes out. Quinn nods softly to herself, speaking in low tones

"I won't do that do her…"

The statement holds so much conviction. It takes a minute but the ex-cheerleader finally realizes her slip. _Her. _Shakily she looks up to her mother. Judy wears a curious expression as she tilts her head. There was no mother's handbook for this. The older blonde has known for a long time and she doesn't _care_. All she wants is for the fear to disappear from her daughter's face. All she wants is for her daughter to _let go_ because, now, she always had a home to return to. A small smile crawls onto her face as the question slips out.

"Is it that Rachel Berry girl?"

Quinn's head snaps up. The piano tune is abandoned.

"What?"

No response. Lines appear on the softball player's forehead. She's only slightly comforted by the fact that she isn't being told to pack her bags. Instead she tries a different approach.

"How?"

"Mother's intuition."

Quinn raised her eyebrow and Judy smirked. The atmosphere becomes slightly lighter. They bask in the fact that because of their lives, their relationship is different to most. They _can_ talk like this. The older blonde adjusts the buttons on her cardigan before looking up. She speaks wistfully.

"One of these days, you're going to have to let me get away with one, Quinnie. The truth is, whenever I go over to have lunch with Hiram and Leroy, I always see a lettermen in her room."

The pianist's shoulders stiffen. A small breath is expelled. Part of her feels comforted, knowing that the brunette still had it with her. Maybe, they were both in the same place. Maybe they both were having troubles _letting go. _Quinn wonders if her jacket smells of the singer by now. God, she hopes so… Judy looked into her eyes.

"I haven't seen yours since the start of the year Quinn…"

The softball player looks away. Her mother simply continued.

"At least she's talented and quite pretty in her own way. Better than that boy Finn – "

There lay the beginning of a long spiel. Quinn rolled her eyes. Normally, her mother's reactions to the giant footballer would bring her some strange sense of joy. But tonight, it just brings another image to her mind. _Rachel. _The scene in the auditorium replays. The brunette's voice is a broken record._ Just say yes… _A sharp pain makes it difficult to breath. Quinn wonders if there were a finite number of brain cells reserved for a particular topic at any given time. If so, then hers were saturated by thoughts of the diva and she was buckling under the sheer volume. Her hands go to grip her head.

Several minutes pass. Judy reached over, lifting her daughter's chin up. There's nothing but regret and pain. Through those familiar eyes, she can feel every inch of it. The intensity is overwhelming. One person, _one girl managed this. _Rachel Berry had somehow managed to transform her daughter from a mere _drifter _in life to someone _real, _someone _vulnerable_ to heartbreak. She's not sure whether to be thankful or angry, or _both_. The mother tries to gather her thoughts before speaking. Her voice shakes, _just a little._

"I don't believe that you only get one chance at love. At my age, you can't or you'll lose it."

Quinn is unresponsive. The older Fabray tries to push through the haze. If there's the slightest chance that she can make the younger blonde take a chance and start _living_ then it would be worth any price. Her throat clears.

"Honey, are you ready to pass on this opportunity? Could you sit by and watch, as Rachel ends up with _every_ person that _isn't_ you?"

A jaw is clenched and hazel green eyes flash. Breathing seemed like a distant memory as Quinn tried to swallow the pain that appeared with her mother's words. _Every person that isn't me. _The statement reverberates in her mind. There's nowhere that she can retreat to, where thoughts of the diva doesn't invade her senses, her functioning, her _being. _She feels her mother shift beside her. Judy has a weary expression. Her eyes seem to _know. _She continues speaking in hopes of change, in hopes that her daughter won't walk away from this, _because_ no one _else _had ever managed to make her care like this. The older blonde is sympathetic.

"It's true, another chance could fall into your lap. _But_ that could be years later. By then, she could have a family and _you_ could be too busy with work. Chances are, you two will share an awkward embrace and simply _move _on with your lives.

A tear slides down the pianist's cheek as she despondently runs her hand over the dress that her mother had bought. The painted future causes her organs freeze and her senses to heighten. Suddenly, everything in the room seemed a little too _real_. Quinn tries to shut her eyes, but the only solace she has is the picture on her wall. _No, silly. It's a star and a Cheerio... I'm the star and you're the Cheerio..._

Judy followed her daughter's gaze. For a while they say nothing, they just _sit there._

"Go to prom, Quinn... Santana and Brittany are coming in ten minutes to pick you up."

The words are eventually whispered. Judy hugged her daughter, placing a kind kiss on her forehead. They linger in the moment for a little while. Quinn stays because she needs the strength and courage. Judy stays because she _finally_ feels like a _mother. _

/

One the other side of town, Finn used the sleeve of his tuxedo jacket to wipe the sweat from his brow. He's procrastinated enough and now he has no more excuses. Never in his life has a wooden door seemed so daunting, than that of the Berry's. He almost pushes his ear against it, in hopes of preparing himself for what was coming on the other side. However even now, he hears Quinn's voice in his mind, telling him that it would be in bad taste. The footballer takes one final glance at the two corsages and his heart rate jumps. _A choice to make…_He raises his hand to knock. Bang. Bang. Bang.

"Hello, Finn. Come on in. Rachel's just upstairs, let me bring her down for you."

Hiram steps back, moving up the stairs. Standing on the opposite end is Leroy Berry, a six foot tall African American. He has gives Finn a firm once over. This causes the young man to stiffen and swallow. A strange feeling travels through his spine when he finally notices the expression on the father's face. It was one of sad knowing. Before he can focus on it, both men hear a fuss on the top of the staircase. Hiram fluttered around nervously, helping his daughter adjust the final angles of her gown. Proud tears appear in his eyes.

For Finn, it's almost like a slow awakening as every part of his vision zooms in on the diva. Bit by bit, more of Rachel is revealed as she trails down. The footballer is dumbstruck as a faint gurgle comes out. _Beautiful. _A goofy smile appears as he tries to fix himself up. Leroy watched softly. Only he noticed, how the singer's eyes seem to scream pain and how her smile was _so _forced. It hurts to see because his daughter has never been one for masks. And, the tall African American can't help but wonder _who _had taught her how to hide.

Still, the brunette descends with confidence and poise. She tries to keep her eyes fixed on Finn. She tries to remember how that boyish grin _used to_ make her feel. It takes more resolve than she has. But most of all, she _tries_ to convince herself that she _doesn't_ want Quinn to be _the one_ standing there. Her facial muscles start to ache under the strain of the pretense.

After what seemed like ages, Finn stumbles forward. His eyes are bright, such a sharp contrast to the dulled browns opposite him. Leroy supposes the footballer's biggest fault was that he didn't notice. He was so wrapped up in his own issues. Either that or the young high school student _chose_ to ignore the fact that Rachel was not happy; he _chose_ to push the thought away. It's not wrong. In fact many would do the same, whilst some wouldn't even care. Clearly, that wasn't the case here. There was conflict swirling behind the hope. It's just unfortunate, that ignoring the elephant in the room and blinding believing in the positive was the _common _thing to do. Leroy had always thought that when every cell in one's body longed for a specific other, that _one_ person would be driven to do the _extraordinary_. Because then, the actions are no longer your own and you aren't constrained by creativity or intelligence.

Finn struggled with his speech.

"Rach, I don't know what to do… You're beautiful."

The singer's shoulders seem to drop minutely. There's the barest flicker in her expression as she moves down to give the tall boy a hug. For a moment, she _can't_ look the footballer in the eyes as she feels some sort of disappointment when there's _no reason_ to. The compliment was lovely and laced with awe. Finn's brown orbs glistened with honesty and adoration. She has his sole attention, but it's _not_ enough. It's _not_ what she needs. In that instance, the diva caught her daddy's eye and immediately shied away. Her veins thrum. There's a truth she's not ready to confess yet and heartbreak that she's _still _clinging to, because it's just _too damn hard_ to let go. The faintest accusation burrows into her thoughts. Why couldn't Finn see…_her? _

"Oh. Right. Um…I brought you something. A wrist corsage."

The footballer swallowed, unknowingly interrupting the diva's thoughts. He willed his muscles to obey but it's difficult. His organs seize in anxiety. Suddenly, he's not sure. He's not sure if the singer would choose _him_. Everything that's happened so far seems to play like a slow movie. On the forefront were the singer's smile, the blonde's consternation and the way the two girls behaved, _together_. Around each other, they seemed to _know_ how to _act, _how to speak and how to _be, _substituting as a lifeline. Quinn let the diva _in… And _Rachel trusted the blonde to protect her.

Finn hesitates. For a second his desire to keep the brunette makes him question his intentions. Did he really need to know? Could he live with himself if he made the decision _for _her?

_No._

Slowly he looked down into Rachel's eyes. The footballer allowed himself time to capture the memory, from the prettiness of her gown to the pristine arrangement of her features. For the second, her curious attention is entirely on him. He's what she sees and the corsage that he mentioned is her only thought. Finn breathed, bringing the boxed orchid from his back. The temperature warms and his father's old suit constricts. Every part of his body locks up in anticipation as Rachel receives the box. The duration of the scene is stretched. Frantic thoughts rush through the footballer's mind. It's the first time he understands the colloquialism, heart in hand. Please…_let me be enough._

The lid is opened and a small gasp is released. Brown eyes methodically considered the flower. Rachel _tries _but she can't feel much. The short brunette hopes her face is actually smiling because she doesn't want to disappoint. The orchid is beautiful, but it means nothing to her. The intricacies of the petals shone under the florescent lights of the hallway. Everything about it was _so busy. _Without her control, her heart sinks. The rickety chains that were holding it up were breaking. And Finn…he sees. His vision blurs as moisture gathers in his eyes. There's a sharp pain in his chest. His big shoulders were shaking. The tall boy collapsed into himself. An answer _was_ given. Nobody had promised him that it would be one that he wanted to hear. Bitterly, he takes a last look at the failed orchid. His calloused fingers clenched around the lily that was still behind his back. The saddest thing to Leroy was that neither teenager could fully appreciate the pain of other because in many ways they knew what was coming.

Finn breathed. It was hard to _think_. Just as the diva's hand moved to wear the corsage, he stops her. Their eyes lock. Confusion swirls in Rachel's brown. Rubbing his neck, the footballer brings the lily out into the open… What's left of his heart breaks at the care and complicated relief in the singer's expression, as she held the pink tinged lily corsage. The tension in her frame filtered away, her bottom lip quivered and the lines in her forehead smoothed out. The forced brave smile is forgotten under the brief memory, _a single lily on the center booth_. For the first time that night, the footballer realizes how much of a mask it really was.

A lone tear slides down his cheek. Finn holds out his arm for her to take…

/

It's prom night at McKinley and students are bustling with excitement. There are three stories that have no room to play out, anymore. Things were coming to a head.

_Three people. Three hearts._

/

Quinn opened the door to the glee room. The dance was across the hall in the gym. It was getting a little too loud. There was just too much food, lights, love, _everything. _The blonde had stayed to watch her best friends dance. The moment that Santana had relaxed in the tall dancer's arms and the moment Brittany's smile lit up, the pianist left. Now, she drifted around, letting her fingers trail over various chairs and musical instruments. She seemed to pause around the diva's seat. Her vision distorted as harsh breathing filled the room.

The softball player had also stayed long enough to see Finn walk in with the singer. The expressions on their faces had been strained but Quinn imagined that by the end of the night, they would find each other again. She refused to believe in anything else, because if she did, her control would undoubtedly slip. She's quite sure that she would be standing in front of the diva pleading for a second chance, something that could hurt them both. Numbly, she seats herself on the piano stool. A slow deliberate tune slips from her fingers. The words slip out, unbidden and uncensored. There's a slight pause between each line as she waits for the thoughts and _feelings _to come. It wasn't planned, she was just..._finally_ expressing herself. Nothing in this moment exuded joy. But, everything in the moment communicated defeat and regret. Quinn's voice is raspy and whisper-like.

Should've kissed you there

I should've held your face

I should've watched those eyes

Instead of run in place

I should've called you out

I should've said your name

I should've turned around

I should've looked again

The blonde stopped for a second, trying to control her emotions. It was fortunate that she could play the piano without actually seeing the keys. Salty tears pooled in the crevices of the instrument. Her fingers nearly slipped. The regret becomes a destructive force causing her internal systems to go haywire. Small spasms travel down her spine as she pushes her face into her open palms. A clang follows as her elbows hit the keys on impact.

Outside, a brunette pushes the tall boy away. She's having trouble breathing through the sudden bouts of longing as she frantically barrels out of the gym doors. _Inside, _a blonde grits her jaw. She closes her eyes and leans forward. Music begins float in again along with a slightly self-loathing voice.

But oh, I'm staring at the mess I made

I 'm staring at the mess I made

I 'm staring at the mess I made

As you turn, you take your heart and walk away

There's a small shake of the head and hands that flex repeatedly. There's no _response _anymore. In her mind, Quinn, once again does nothing as Rachel runs out of the auditorium. A familiar ache seemed to blossom in her chest as she looked up to the ceiling as if to pray. By this time, the wayward brunette from the dance was standing outside the choir room door. Her head was craned so to peek through the small opening of the door. It hadn't been properly shut. Rachel didn't understand anything; she had just wanted to get away from…Finn? The couples? Everything had been so overwhelming and the footballer's kindness was suffocating. Knowledge of the situation weighed on their shoulders, but neither would make the first step. They hold on to what _was_ like a security blanket. Somehow on her path, the softball player's voice had penetrated the haze. Against all her better judgment, the diva had inched closer. Tiredly sung words travel to her ear.

Should've held my ground

I could've been redeemed

For every second chance

That changed its mind on me

I should've spoken up

I should've proudly claimed

That oh my head's to blame

For all my heart's mistakes

The last note is hit roughly. The last word is almost hissed though clenched teeth. And Rachel is gone or at least her sensibility was. For the first time, brown eyes travel over the slightly heaving frame by the instrument. Temporarily, beauty had no meaning because the blonde had transcended that construct. The pianist was dressed in a strapless gray flowing gown. The cut of the corset revealed a span of marble like pale skin. With each inhalation there was a rise in the fabric and a different sparkle, under the tube lights. Immediately, the singer's focus would shift to follow. Each time she did, her mind found a previously undiscovered angle to the girl in front of her. _It wasn't fair_. Quinn shouldn't be _allowed_ to do this to her. A sigh escapes the blonde, as she stares back down at the keys. Her fingers speed up building to the chorus. There's a sway to her body as she loses herself.

But oh, I'm staring at the mess I made

I 'm staring at the mess I made

I 'm staring at the mess I made

As you turn, you take your heart and walk away

Quinn's chokes on the word 'away.' Just when the moisture had begun to dry up on the keys, a tear rolled down her cheek, along her jaw and down her neck. It falls past the blonde's defined collarbones and across her chest… Rachel can't help but gasp, shutting her eyes tightly. In her hypnotized state, her reflexes had yanked the door closed in an attempt to protect herself from the sight, the temptation. The door made a light snapping sound. A sense of dread spreads through the diva's body as she's frozen in her spot. Behind the barrier a bewildered ex-cheerleader looks up, confusion taking over her features. A familiar feeling of peace settles in her. Something causes her heart to jump just a _little _faster. Her eyes stay locked on the door and the words slip out fluidly. She doesn't know why but her voice is actually trying to push the truth across the room and _through_ that door.

And it's you, and it's you

And it's you, and it's you

And it's falling down, as you walk away

And it's on me now, as you go

Quinn walks slowly to the entryway. Now that the piano has been abandoned, all that is carrying the sound is her voice. It's raw, untrained and _undeniably tortured. _She places her hand on the knob. _She_ contemplates turning it, but lacks the courage. Instead, her body turns around, leaning her back against the door. The rigidity of the wall keeps her upright. Unknowingly, Rachel has made the same mirror movement on the other side. Like a puppet on strings, her fingers had trailed to the brass door handle. _And_ like Quinn, she lacked the daring to go through with it, as past memories and rejections catch up to her mind.

But oh, I'm staring at the mess I made

I 'm staring at the mess I made

I 'm staring at the mess I made

As you turn, you take your heart and walk away

They _both_ slide down to the floor, no longer caring about their gowns. They couldn't stand even if they _tried_.

And it's falling down, as you walk away

And it's on me now, as you go

A pale hand and a tan hand lay flat against speckled linoleum floors. Their fingertips are pressed along the gap in the bottom of the door. It's an innate action and the girls think they _can _feel the heat from each other's hand. Neither girl notices the tall footballer baller by the gym's entrance. From his point, all he sees is his date leaning against the choir room door as if it was her _only _source of comfort. In his hands were two glasses of punch. Finn really wished that he didn't know who was on the other side. He _really _wished that he didn't see the way the singer's eyes seem to glaze over. After what seems like an hour Rachel looks up. Brown meets brown and they don't say a word. The diva stands shakily. Mutely, she takes the drink from his hand and lets him lead her back into the fray. In the choir room, Quinn sings the last lines. She's filled with a cold feeling.

But oh, I'm staring at the mess I made

I 'm staring at the mess I made

I 'm staring at the mess I made

As you turn, you take your heart and walk away

/

The next half an hour consists of multi-colored lights, random dances with faceless strangers and the occasional reprieve by Brittany and Santana. Quinn finally gets a chance to go unnoticed when her latest partner disappears for a drink. She stands stoically by the tables. _She_ tries to keep her eyes away from the footballer and the singer who has somehow taken up center-stage. They're moving _so _close together. Rachel's eyes are shut. Finn stares into the distance. For _once, _the footballer has no trouble dancing. He's in perfect form, turning, tilting and twisting without prompts to the beat. The blonde swallows. There's a sad aura around the two that nobody can touch. In fact others on the dance floor are reluctant to get too close to the duo. Hidden from everyone else, they manage to anticipate each other's movements through their heartbreak.

Sue Sylvester sidles up to her young captain. Her expression betrays nothing but her commanding voice grabs the softball player's notice. Quinn stiffens, berating herself for the lapse in her awareness. Her guard had momentarily disappeared. She _was not _at the mercy of her senses. She _was not_ at the mercy of Rachel Barbra Berry... _Lie. _

Sue gave the young girl an analytical onceover. The ex-cheerleader was rigid. Standing to attention, an exercise in discipline. To an untrained eye, there was nothing else to see. To the coach, there were numerous tremors, clenches and gaps in breathing. Surrounded by all the forced cheer of the other chaperones, Sue finds this to be calming. There's nothing like teenage pain and defeat, to warm the heart. Maybe she does need another hobby. So, she actually speaks to protégée.

"You know, Q, I raised my Cheerios to be leaders and captains of industry by placing you in situations of never-ending terror. This was an institution, which you and your band of idiots decided to desert. On the other hand, we have butt-chin Schuester, who thinks that, kids needs to be _guided _and _coddled._ Now look where you are now…pathetically mooning over a girl, who's short enough to qualify as a midget in a townie circus!"

If possible, the young blonde stiffens even more. A mere breeze would snap her. At this moment Finn had leaned forward placing a slow kiss on the brunette's lips. There was no real motive or propellant behind the contact. It just seemed like the thing to do in the smokescreen they were keeping up. Rachel accepted the gesture burrowing herself into his broad chest. With each movement, the end inches closer. It would be wrong to keep faking it, if you already knew that you'd never make it.

Quinn and Coach Sylvester didn't have the privilege of _that_ information. They both flinched at the _supposed_ display of affection by the footballer. Sue's hand rubs her throat as she makes sickened sounds. She wanted to roll her eyes at all the couples here tonight. It was all too sugary sweet. She was going to get a cavity. When she has her annoyance under control she straightens the collar of her tracksuit, as if to ward of a disease.

"That's disgusting. Now I have the image of those two burned into my retina. Their offspring will be _annoyingly _**stupid**!_"_

No response. The pianist looks up to the ceiling, hoping for some sort of answer, command, _whatever. _Her mothers voice echoes. _By then she could have a family…_The concept tugs at her thoughts, causing her hazel green eyes to prickle; little Rachel Hudson's running amuck. It gets progressively harder to concentrate. Sue stares at her student making a finicky gesture with her hands.

"I'd call it your civic duty to _stop_ that from being unleashed onto the world. Wouldn't you?"

Somehow they lapse into a companionable silence. Quinn eventually asks in her thick raspy tone. She's never weak, especially in front of Sue Sylvester.

"Why are you doing this? Did you mix Prozac with your vitamins, again?

The coach releases a snicker.

"It's not fun to break you if you're already broken."

Quinn turns away. Was she… _broken? _With one final glance towards the diva and footballer, the blonde _knows _that she _is_…

She barely registers Sue's retreating remarks as the menopausal coach chased after Jacob Ben Israel. He had once again revealed himself in a public arena.

"Q! Grow a pair. Captain inflate-a-boobs seems to have."

On the dance floor, Santana is holding Brittany close. The Latina had let go of her reservations _the second_ the tall dancer had leaned her head on her shoulder. The angle was strange considering their mismatched heights but it brought a smile to their faces.

/

"Check. Check. Attention, students, it is now time to announce our senior Prom Queen and King. The votes are in. Candidates please move onto the stage."

Principal Figgin's reiterated in his familiar monotone voice. The only sign of his excitement was the shy and awkward smile on his face as he lifted the envelope. Members of the glee club watched disinterestedly. None of the couples that ran last year had the inclination to battle again for the role. They've grown up and changed. The concept of the competition seemed petty in hindsight. Still, they watched the spectacle.

"The prom Queen for 2012 is…"

The Indian faculty looked around. His gaze landed to a girl by the punch table.

"Quinn Fabray!"

Cheers erupted all around. People cheered loudly for the person who was at one point in time their antagonist and was now their accidental protector. The Indian faculty member marveled that the votes seemed to be unanimous. Suddenly, his pride for his students welled up. In a rare display of emotion, he pumps his fist up giddily. The girls on stage were disappointed and some were even tearing up. Nevertheless they accepted the verdict. Quinn on the other hand stood frozen. The noise was loud and cluttered to her ears. In her line of sight she saw many faces congratulating her, clapping her on the shoulder. Funny thing was, she hadn't really felt any of it. Nothing really entered her consciousness until her eyes met Rachel's. There were a crowd of people between them but the blonde could discern the sad knowing smile and the slight tilt of the head toward the stage. The sliver of warmth that appeared distracts the softball player. She never knew it when Santana's insistent shoves had eventually brought her to the stage. Principal Figgin's grinned placing the smaller of the crowns onto her head and handing her the female staff.

"And the 2012 prom king, with the majority votes is…Kurt Hummel!"

For a moment there was a silence. The young fashionista clung to his boyfriend, Blaine Anderson. A surprised hand covers his mouth. His eyes glittered as a tear slipped down his face. Everyone was crying tonight. As soon as the moisture dropped onto the black lapel jacket, McKinley High livened up again. Glee club members chuckled to themselves, shaking their heads in disbelief. One year had made all the difference. The students had finally learnt how to differentiate between tolerance and acceptance _because _there was one. Kurt floated to the stage. There were no looks of disgust or discrimination, only encouraging faces as students hoped that the young boy would forgive the past transgressions. The principal couldn't halt the elation as he coronated the gay teen.

"Now it's time for the traditional prom king and queen dance!"

Finn and Artie went to set up the instruments and the speakers. They had been assigned the song for the coronation dance. Glee Club had once again been hired to be the musical act for the school's dance. Once again, they were working up the money needed for Nationals. The footballer takes a glance at Quinn. He was glad she had won. It was the something that she deserved. Nobody would begrudge her of that this year. However before he could tell her as much, the music started and he took his place by the marker. It was a slow song. Later, in the drenching rain, he would wonder why he chose it.

The dance floor began to clear for the royal two. The piano start was so fragile. The blonde feels like she knows it, from a long time ago. For just a second she looks at the footballer. Then, Quinn takes Kurt's hand and tugs him towards Blaine. She smiles softly, nudging the couple close together. They both look to the blonde in surprise. She gives them a bittersweet nod. The mask of bravery makes itself known. The two boys lean forward thanking the pianist. When she turns around, Finn's voice comes fills the auditorium.

Here we are

Isn't it familiar

The crowd is frozen, unsure how to proceed. Quinn stood alone in the center, thinking about her options. From the corner of her eye she could see Blaine and Kurt dancing. Their expressions were free of stress, just happy to be _together. _It's a balm to her fractured soul and her eyes drift around. Unconsciously, a hand goes to grab her elbow. She closes her eyes, listening to the words. She's moving under the shining lights unaccompanied.

Haven't had someone to talk to

In such a long time

Brittany and Sam move to dance with their friend, frustrated by the lack of action from others. The scene was too heartbreaking. However, they're stopped by Santana's firm grip on their collars and dress straps. The bottled blonde footballer turns to glare at his captor. The Latina matches his look, shaking her head. Brittany is confused, until her blue eyes fall to the brunette by the side. In that second, the tall dancer stops struggling, instead crossing her fingers behind her back. Three pairs of eyes follow, as Rachel seemed to take a couple of deep breaths. There's uncertainty in her expression as a couple of slow nervous steps are taken. Suddenly she's on the dance floor, paces away from Quinn.

And it's strange

All we have in common

The pianist opens her eyes at the sudden gasps from the crowd. Her eyes widen at the sight. The blood pumps stronger and faster through her veins and the room starts to spin. She wished her mouth wasn't so dry, because standing opposite her was Rachel Berry. The brunette's tan hand was extended. Quinn can read the fear in the brown orbs. They both swallow. The blonde imagines that that same fear is reflected in her own eyes.

And your company was just the thing I needed tonight

Somehow I feel I should apologize

The softball player relaxes her fists and a step is taken. Pretty soon they're face to face.

Cuz I'm just a little shaken

Quietly, she takes the diva's proffered hands, dragging her towards her body. Rachel stumbled at the unexpected act. Her frame slammed into Quinn's. Reflexively they both hold tighter. They _both_ lose the air from their lungs.

By what's going on inside

Finally, Rachel pulls back. She places an acceptable distance in between them and assumes the dance position. The closeness had been overwhelming as every cell in her body returned to life. A crushing feeling happened in her chest and it's a reminder that this won't last. It's not forever. The singer just couldn't stand to see the blonde alone. She could do this for the taller girl, as long as she didn't lose herself in those comforting arms, as long as there was _space_ between them. This way, she could pretend as if the dance didn't mean anything, specifically that it _wouldn't_ break her when she went home. Quinn didn't say a word. She didn't contest it. Softly she holds the singer hand and waist, moving with the song.

I should go

Before my will gets any weaker

And my eyes begin to linger

Longer than they should

_They already do. _Both girls look away. They don't know it, but their bodies are inching closer with each word and beat.

I should go

Before I lose my sense of reason

And this hour holds more meaning

Than it ever could

I should go

Curiously, Quinn looks up at Finn.

I should go

The footballer sings the line without change but his hands grip the microphone tighter.

Baby, I should go

Rachel shuts her eyes. _Go._ With each repetition of the word, she's hit with another memory of the blonde walking away. It hurts _so _much. She's gripping tighter on the softball player's neck. Suddenly the distance that was there at the start goes away. Their frames are pressed up against each other, even if their movements are still fluid. The brunette burrows her head in the crook of Quinn's neck; she's _safe_. In this proximity she registers that she's not the only one falling apart. In _this _proximity, Quinn has trouble hiding anything from the shorter girl as her desires take a hold over her muscles.

For the moment, she's actually grateful because the feel of the diva in her arms again, is absolving. The restrictions that she's always placed on herself are lifted. She has a blasphemous thought, that as long as she has the brunette, god can take a backseat. Rachel makes her feel good, deserving…_worthy._ She gives the singer a twirl. Briefly, both their eyes light up, the dance is like breathing. They don't miss a step and they know exactly -what to do even when they shouldn't.

It's so hard

Keeping my composure

And pretend I don't see how

Your body curves beneath your clothes

And your laugh

Is pure and unaffected

It frightens me to know so well the place I shouldn't go

Finn's voice resounds. All too soon it reminds the girls that this is only temporary. They need the reminder because it's just too easy to forget. Shakily Quinn leans her forehead to the singer's. _A place I shouldn't go…_They both close their eyes as a tear escapes down both their faces. The blonde wonders how many more cries she can manage. Every time that she's sure that she's done, that her tear ducts have been exhausted, she's proven wrong. Her breathing becomes shallower and an inevitable ache appears in the chest and throat. In both their minds, they whisper silent confessions and proclamations.

I know I gotta take the noble path

Cuz I don't want you to question

The intentions that I have

Blaine and Kurt come to the girls, offering their hands. There's a pause as the girls consider the implications of accepting. They would have to let go of the other. But it's only for a second before they acquiesce. Finn continues, by now he's thoroughly _done._

I should go

Quinn untangles her body from the shorter girl's, taking the Warbler's hand. They begin to move. There's no question about it, Blaine is an excellent dancer but even then there's a grace period where they both try to learn each other's movements. It's not innate. It's not something they _know. _When they do get it right, the private school boy is kind enough not to say anything. He chooses to let Quinn get away with her secret about the brunette, even if it's obvious. Instead for the purposes of the night, he is simply her partial dance partner and a wall to lean on.

Rachel feels stony without the blonde, _lonely._ In an attempt to shake it off she accepts Kurt's hand. The two divas move. The boy wants to question his friend but the fact that she's unwilling to even look him in the eye tells him all he needs to know. He registers how at the beginning, her body seemed to reject his. 

Before my will gets any weaker

And my eyes begin to linger

Longer than they should

I should go

The brunette looks over Kurt's shoulder. Browns meet greens and she looks _away_. Both girls feel wronged by the distance in between. Quinn shakes her head softly.

Before I lose my sense of reason

And this hour holds more meaning

Than it ever could

I should go

I should go

Baby, I should go

The girls are spun into a twirl. Somehow they manage to catch themselves in the middle, colliding with intent. Instinctively, the blonde's arms encompass the singer, keeping her steady, keeping her strong. Rachel feels herself sink into the embrace, holding tighter and burrowing _deeper. _Pride doesn't hold anything back, because they function with a time limit over their heads, till the end of the song…it _was_ ending. If anything Rachel pushes impossibly _closer. _

I don't mean to leave you with a trivial excuse

And when you call tomorrow, I'll know what to do

Each breath she takes causes a myriad of reactions in the blonde. Some of Quinn's senses take multiple pathways to the pleasure center of her brain. Others take the direct route the muscles controlling her heart, contracting and constricting. With each breath that the singer takes, her lips accidentally graze the softball player's pulse-point. It causes the ex-cheerleader's neck to feel inflamed as she wishes that it would stay that way…

Artie helps the footballer with the last chorus. Finn, it seemed had run out of feelings; love, sadness, hate. _He had nothing left._

I should go

Before my will gets any weaker

And my eyes begin to linger

Longer than they should

I should go

Before I lose my sense of reason

And this hour holds more meaning

Than it ever could

I should go

I should go

Baby, I should go

There's a moment after the song when the girls don't know what to do. It's shattered the moment a student clapped. Rachel pushed away, looking anywhere but at Quinn. The concerned gaze would do them no good. In the past, she had wanted the pianist to be sincere. Now, it's gotten to the point where the truth would upset her because it wouldn't be followed by actions. The singer is breathing fleetingly. Quinn arms haven't quite returned to her sides, hanging in the air. Her expression is vacant. In a second, Rachel manages one glance before murmuring congratulations. She fled the gym.

"Rach!"

Finn's voice was heard but not heeded.

/

Outside in the car park, it's raining. Rachel is propped against the sport shed. She wanted the rain to wash the traces of the blonde away. Finn steps up next to her. He takes off his suit jacket and places it on her shivering shoulders. For a while they just stand there. It's actually the tall boy who speaks first. His voice breaks. There's a coarseness that's present after the singing.

"We're breaking up, aren't we?"

The brunette looks at the boy who had held her heart for so long. His tears mixed with the rain, trailing down his face. She won't lie to him, to the both of them anymore.

"Yes."

Another silence. The sounds of the water hitting metal roofs and faint cheering from the dance becomes loud to their ears. Finn clears his throat.

"You know, you could be waiting forever for her…"

The brunette nods minutely to herself. A shuddering breath and then a sob is heard. Eventually she manages to say the words.

"I know…that's why I'm not going to. I can't."

/

Late that night… girls are peacefully slumbering from their post-dance highs and wonderful good night kisses. Their gowns hang in a special transparent bag in their wardrobes. Boys are snoring in their beds with x-box controllers in their hands. It's the only way that they could have fallen asleep after the excitement of the night, their suits unceremoniously dumped on the floor. _Quinn_ sits in her car outside of the Berry's home, in the darkness. After everything, her center of gravity is here. Upon leaving the dance she had every intention to drive until _thinking _was nothing but a distant memory. It had led to this location, where somehow the hectic nature of her thoughts seemed to drop into a low hum. Here, the memories don't haunt or hurt, it just gently warms. The pianist tilts her head back, breathing deeply. She wasn't made of stone. There were only so many times she could watch Rachel walk away. For a brief moment, she imagines being selfish. A sharp rapping is made against her passenger seat window. Slowly, Quinn looks up. A curious Leroy Berry is standing outside with a torch and a curious expression. She contemplates the future as she unlocks her door. The African American opens the door. The pianist stares through the windshield and asks the question on her mind.

"Have you come to kick me off your property?"

Leroy seems to think for a moment, confused. He rubbed the back of his head.

"Well, no. That's hardly fair considering the fact that I don't know your reasons for being here or even your name."

Quinn almost chokes. For a moment she see's Rachel in his place. They shared the same bluntness and supposed logic. Her guard slips and her eyes reveal more than they normally would. Leroy waits for a reply. He's got the time and she's got the issues. The father recognized the haunted heartbreak from his daughter. He barely catches it when the blonde whispers something.

"Quinn Fabray."

She expects a reaction, some sort of a big production ending with yelling about her bullying past with the singer. However, Leroy, like his daughter manages to astound her, putting a stop to her preconceptions. There's a glimmer of recognition in his eyes but that was it. The man didn't change much. He didn't morph into an enraged stranger, not like _her_ father. The softball player resists the urge to break down when she discerns the look in his eye, _forgiveness. _Leroy moves to sit on the passenger side, speaking with a gentle tone and an honest smile. It reminds Quinn how many lies she's told and she shudders.

"Alright now that we're acquainted, would you like to get some ice-cream? I know a place."

He offers, as if it was just that simple, as if it would fix everything. Alarmingly, Quinn feels inclined to believe him. She thinks it may be due to the fact that he reminds her so much of the diva. She couldn't please Rachel but maybe talking with her father would be an equivalent. Close to midnight they reach Karl's ice-creamery. The blonde almost collapses at the irony. In her expensive gown and in his pajamas, they walk in. _What a pair…_

The father goes to order two cones, chocolate and rocky road. She doesn't question how he seemed to guess her choice. She thinks that it's better she doesn't know. It's a friendly silence. Quinn feels inclined to say _something. _

"You're not vegan?"

A look of pure horror crosses Leroy's face. A small smile tugs on the blonde's lips. Overacting apparently ran in the family. The African American shook his head emphatically.

"Oh dear god no. I love my bacon far too much."

It seemed to work because the pianist _did _grin. Her shoulders start to relax. Several minutes pass. By now, they've both finished the frozen treats. Leroy was leant back in his chair, counting the cracks in the ceiling. When he does return, he glances at Quinn. Amusedly, he opens his mouth a few times to say something before snapping it shut to revise the statement. It takes a while but eventually he expels his thoughts.

"You know, Rachel finished her grounding debt weeks ago… Hiram and I couldn't comprehend why she would volunteer to work for extra hours."

The peacefulness dissipates. Quinn tenses at the mention of the singer. When she actually computes his statement her eyes widen. The room becomes warmer and every single experience she's had in this building come forward, fighting for the spotlight. In the last weeks, the girls had spent time here, but they didn't communicate. They didn't acknowledge each other, yet apparently the singer still put herself through raging customers and menial labor. _Why?_ Deep down, an obscure voice knows the answer. Leroy paid no heed, continuing his statement.

"I think she just wanted to see _you_…"

_Me…_

Quinn breathes. Her eyes close. Her heartbeat jumps. Vaguely, she realizes that Leroy is still sitting opposite her. He has a thoughtful expression as he watches. There's so much he _could _say but it's clear that the girl couldn't handle it yet. She was on the edge of becoming _willing. _He just hopes that she'll learn to fall, before Rachel moves past the point of listening.

The ex-cheerleader drives the father to his home. It's a familiar route that she could probably do in her sleep, like …the dance... Upon the driveway, Leroy turns around. He brings something out of his pocket and Quinn _does not _breathe,_ does not _move. She's afraid that if she does it will be all _not_ true. Leroy held a small transparent plastic case. Inside it… was a white gardenia… with a green ribbon to match her eyes. The blonde trembles when he transfers it to her palms. It was so delicate. The softness of the petals caressed her fingertips when it should be the other way around. The crushing feeling intensifies. The father speaks softly.

"It was in her room. She wouldn't let it go until _the second_ she had to leave…I think it's supposed to be yours…"

And, Quinn _has _no more tears _left. _Her last defense, her last argument withers away. In the midst of all the pain…she_ finally _wants to be selfish_…_she_ WILL BE… selfish…_

/

The next day, Quinn finds the footballer on the bleachers. Finn has his head in his hands as he takes long calming breaths. He had morning practice but fumbled every shot. By the end of it, Coach Beiste had taken pity on him, telling him to sit out. The thing was, on the field, his thoughts found the diva. In all his games so far, he had played with her mind. Now that there was no Rachel and Finn anymore, he couldn't remember his reasons for doing this, not when she wasn't in the stands watching. The footballer senses the presence of another and glances up. The blonde met his look, sitting diagonally on two roads behind him. Now that she's here, he wonders if the singer was watching _him_ at all. The oncoming breeze had no effect on him but it caused the wispy strands of Quinn's short cut to whip around, a pretty mess.

"You're finally going for it, aren't you?"

The question spoken in a neutral tone as Finn stared down at his fellow teammates. The blonde doesn't answer, she's not sure _how. _The footballer isn't so stupid that he can't interpret the lack of response. There's nothing in him left to break, so, as it was he didn't feel much. A bitter smile appears on his face. He ruffles the sweaty matted hair from his forehead. As a small act of passive aggressive rebellion he did not look to the pianist. Quinn lets it go. She understands because he had lost _Rachel_. Finn eventually speaks.

"You know, we broke up last night."

Moisture gathers in his eyes as the memory returned. He's tensed. Quinn wants to tell him that he would be fine but it would be a useless platitude. They were friends once. She sees the kind boy who had offered to show her around McKinley. Her first judgment had been that he was too dumb to be cruel. Through the years she had revised it to be 'too dumb to be _intentionally _cruel.' Unlike a lot of the other boys, the craving to bully someone wasn't a part of his personality. She misses that person at times. So she has to ask.

"Are we ok?"

A sigh. Finn wouldn't lie or belittle his own grief. Quinn was a large component to the events that had led to his broken heart, she would have to see and recognize that. He shakes his head.

"I don't know, Quinn. Give it time. Just don't hurt her..."

_I can't anymore._

/

"Q, are you sure about this?"

Santana caught up with the blonde captain. It was afterschool. They had glee club rehearsal. Quinn reached for the sheet music from her bag.

"No."

"Then why?"

The Latina asked, causing the pianist to pause. Quinn reminds herself that she was going to be selfish. She was going to be _honest. _It takes a second to think of an answer because out of the corner of her eye, she sees the diva walk into the choir room. The brunette seemed to freeze by the door for a moment, as her eyes glazed back. The ex-head cheerleader is caught in an in between. The tension drained from her shoulders. An unspeakable force pushes her in the singer direction._ Not yet. _Instead, she confesses in low tones.

"Because, not doing this is harder than it should be…"

The two alpha girls shared a moment, causing the pianist to shake her head.

"Has Artie set the system up yet?"

"Yeah, I got Britts to ask him. It was the only way he would drop the questions."

The Latina had that familiar disgruntled look as she spoke about the boy in the wheelchair. Quinn expected that she would learn to let it go eventually but it would simply take time. As they reached the glee room, the ex-captain called her friend back.

"Santana?"

The Latina stops, looking up. Quinn is sincere.

"Thanks."

There's a grunt as a hand waves the comment away. The Latina walks to her seat.

"We gots your back Q. Make the dwarf less annoying would you?"

/

Quinn stops. Her hand is leant against the ledge of the doorway. Her green eyes fall to the diva in the front row. Rachel is kind of hunched, placing post-its and sticker notes on her folder of show choir music. She's not looking at anyone else; an isolated wall surrounds her figure. There's an uncomfortable ache in the ex-captain's gut as she realizes that she _wants _to be the one to fix it. She _can_ be. She _will_ be. The pianist breathes deeply, steeling herself, dumps her duffel on _her_ chair. It makes a noise causing the singer to jump. The childish part in the ex-cheerleader can't help but grin. She takes a notepad out, scribbling a few words. It's hard not to shake when she feels the brunette's eyes trail over her before looking away. Quinn drops the loose sheet on the floor before moving off to the piano. Against her every will, Rachel looks down. Her breathing quickens at the impatient scrawl.

_For the chance of something better…_

She's thrown back to the day when she spoke the words. _Ice cream_, they had been talking about frozen dessert. This is the first time that she lies to herself. Almost immediately, the thoughts in her head become louder. But before her mind drowns in the memory, Mr Schue interrupts.

"Hey guys, Quinn has a performance for us today. So let's give her our full attention."

Only, Rachel didn't need to _give it_, because her focus is _always _on the girl at the piano. If she's being honest, it's been that way for a while _though_ Finn, _through_ Sue and _through_ Beth. The shorter girl thinks that it needs to stop. Actually, she _knows _it does, because, at this moment Quinn looks…faultless and irreproachable. There's genuineness in her expression that pierces the singer's heart and a determination that incites her fear. The jumping of her internal organs informs her that she is going to be crushed; she's going to want the blonde. The ex-cheerleader takes a gentle glance at the diva before starting the slightly syncopated rhythm. A smile appears under her mask.

I bit my tongue for too long

My patience gets a bit thin

I gotta tell you the way that it is

I think you know this is something different we've started

Glee club members start to bop to the beat. Rachel's world spins and she tries to hold on to her grief. _The words aren't about her. They're not!_

We're more than ordinary

There's something about the way that the world looks

Brighter when I'm next to you

Except that when Quinn stares at the diva in that intense way, Rachel stops chanting in her head. Her eyes are _slightly_ wide and her lips are _slightly_ open. There's a rising feeling in her chest as a rush of familiar tingles erupt in her small body. She squeezes her eyes shut, hoping that the absence of visual input would stop it. She hopes that sensibility will return, because her eyes _still _hurt from the night before. Her bed sheets were stained with mascara-mixed tears. The brunette _can't _stay here for this. The next words causes her to crumple.

No one's gonna love you like I will

_I did this for Finn… _The diva's memories of the blonde counteract the sung words. Quinn doesn't pause she continues even as the brunette stands up and packs her bag. Everyone else looks shocked by the singer's abrupt movement. She was never one to walk out of a performance, before – yes, after – yes but never _during._ They feel a strange sense of concern, a familial desire to make things right. However, the fire behind her brown orbs makes them reconsider.

Darlin' you can just take take take your time

Rachel has moved past Quinn and to the door.

And I've been burning up like a wildfire

The pianist remembers how her skin would heat and jump under the diva's touch. The mere thought is enough to start the process again. She's not looking anywhere but the instrument in front of her. Somehow her gaze seemed to affect the singer, bringing out the most volatile sides of her personality. It would be easy to create a relationship from impulses and inflamed tempers. Like maybe stolen moments in the shadows or a frantic kiss during an argument. But that wasn't the point today. No, the softball player was far too spoiled to let it simply end there. She was looking for a surrender from Rachel, because, she had already given _hers…_

Wishing you would just say say say you're mine, mine

The shorter girl is out the door. Quinn finally looks up in her wake. Her voice is smooth and untroubled. She's got till the end of this song to persuade… Rachel is free to come and go.

You're mine

By this point the diva had stumbled into the lockers around the corner. Her breath comes out in pants because the words of the song _do _register. She pushes herself forward, attracting strange looks from lingering students. Just when she thinks that Quinn's voice and meanings don't exist anymore, the school intercom starts up. There a feedback sound that causes every person _still_ in the educational institution to cringe. Principal Figgins is shaken from his afternoon nap. Ms Pilsbury jumps in surprise, abandoning her manila folders. And Sue Sylvester contorts her face in annoyance. A voice appears, clearing the remnants of the static.

Let's get ourselves outta town

We'll take the last train out

I got a million things I wanna know

Rachel chokes on her disbelief. Quinn's voice is clear and asking as it dominates the halls. In an attempt to block it out, the diva throws her body into the nearest room. Her breathing stops, it's the classroom that she's seen Finn drag the blonde into. She remembers _that_ twinge of jealousy and rage. Ignoring it would be a mistake. Letting the blonde _in _would be fatal… On the chalkboard was a drawing. It looked like _herself_, except, this time it's not derogatory. The girl in the picture is in her prom night ball gown, relaxed and wearing a smile. The singer felt her hand go to her lips. She _barely _recalls what the gesture of happiness felt like. 

It's easy baby with us there's nowhere we can't go

And this love it doesn't scare me

'Cause I'm running out of reasons not to feel this

A pause. Quinn lets the note linger before collapsing. Her voice breaks. The rest of the words come out breathy and cluttered. The pianist shakes her head in the choir room as she wonders where Rachel is.

I can tell you're dying to try

Rachel closes her eyes. She can hear random students gathering outside in confusion. The leftover population of McKinley High wonders whom this song was about.

No one's gonna love you like I will

Darlin' you can just take take take your time

And I've been burning up like a wildfire

Wishing you would just say say say you're mine, mine

You're mine

Rachel can see the blonde in her mind. The words would probably slip out like second nature. Behind the force of the feelings the brunette shudders. Suddenly she's claustrophobic. Her petite form runs out of the room and down the hall, leaving specks of bewildered students in her wake. She ends up in the auditorium. It's completely dark but the singer knows her way around. There's clanging as the lights come on. The high ceilings cause the blonde's transmitted voice to bounce and linger longer than they normally would. The diva must have a target on her because every sound wave ends where she's standing.

Don't you wonder what it'd be like?

Underneath the streetlights

You and me

_Rachel did wonder… _

With the city wrapped around us

If no one ever found us

It's fine with me

There's an interlude. The brunette is left with only the music. It isn't a reprieve; not really, because it was filled with the comments they never shared. Wishes they never made. And feelings they never acknowledged. Quinn murmurs into the microphone. There's seriousness to her tone and Rachel _believes._

No one's gonna love you like I will

Darlin' you can just take take take your time

She imagines what it would be like to take her time, to _think_ some more. In some sort of ghostly response, she notices the emptiness of the large performance stage. It would be very much like this moment. The diva feels the coldness seep in. Rachel can't go where the song isn't playing, so she allows herself the chance to break down. She cares about Quinn more than her obsessive need to feel secure or her obsessive need for the spotlight. That _terrifies_ her. Shoulders shake and pulses quicken. What's left of her thoughts begins to wander. In her mind, everything decelerates and her consciousness is molded around the pianist's voice.

No one's gonna love you like I will

Darlin' you can just take take take your time

The song is coming to an end. She's admitted it all before, that she's a puppet on strings and an opportunist when it comes to Quinn. But what she has neglected to add was that the ability to walk away was stripped from her DNA. She finds herself tracing the path that led her here.

And I've been burning up like a wildfire

Wishing you would just say say say you're mine, mine

In the choir room, the pianist stops playing. Her voice conveys the rest. She turns on her stool. Seconds pass. First rich brown hair, followed by smooth tan skin. Then argyle. Quinn feels herself stand. Her hand is out in the air. The barely sung words fall, _conclusively_ filling the space in between. Green eyes bore through browns.

You're mine

Neither girl moves. The blonde's hand is still outstretched, patiently waiting. Last night, Rachel was on the other end. The roles are reversed. They're both taking chances. The brunette places her hand in the softball player's. In a moment, she feels a warm flush. The ex-cheerleader's arms are eager as they return home. The diva feels sheltered with her head burrowed in the taller girl…

Under the restless attention of their peers, Quinn is _greedy… _AndRachel is _generous. _

_They find that something better… _

_/_

Happiness no? I delivered on my promises. They're together! And the fluff will begin now. Reviews are gratefully accepted but not demanded. XD I feel like I should have a small tin can and a cardboard sign when I say this.

Note: Warning, I have tons of schoolwork piling on in the coming weeks. Updates will come as soon as I can, unless you want complete it for me. :D


	14. Chapter 14 To Make You Feel My Love

**Chapter 14 – To Make You Feel My Love**

To my betrothed, aka _Cali, _you're review was so epic! I hope you enjoyed your get-together after the chapter. Now I can't deny your request for my name ;) So without further delay it's: Angie for when I feel like a 5 year old and Angela for school. XD It's too bad you don't have an account I can't reply to your reviews til I post a new chapter, aaah wells more motivation!

To I hope your cross-country interquad went well. The distraction wasn't intentional The thing about doing the right thing is that you'd have to be a very strong person, so kudos.

_Nightbrainzz, _I totally want to just share my music library with you, it'd be awesome.

The song in this chapter is Josh Kelley's cover of To Make You Feel My Love.

/

Rachel breathed in deeply. The small part of her, which was still tethered to reality registered timepassing. It should concern her, but nothing really reaches her mind when she's in the blonde's arms. All points of reason seem malleable, whilst the content warm feeling threatens to overwhelm her. In this case, she's only too happy to oblige. Her relief manifests itself as short rounds of choked laughter. It causes her whole body to shake, pushing puffs of warm air to a pale neck. When it does, Quinn doesn't say a thing, she simply holds on, shuddering in a way that had nothing to do with the cold. Without her notice her index finger is drawing a familiar pattern through an argyle sweater. Slowly she begins to pull back, if only to take a glance at familiar browns. Their breaths catch. A shy smile appears on the singer's features. A sense of warmth floods the blonde.

Quinn's hand makes it to the diva's cheek and they both lean forward. It's not a moment of lust or passion but instead _submission_. _That, _is all they can acknowledge in this moment. There are a lot of other feelings in the buffer zone waiting to be encoded. But, acceptance, by itself, on the ex-cheerleader is the _most_ attractive trait. The taller girl places a lingering kiss on Rachel's forehead. There's a fierce blush igniting under her marble-like skin and she's willing to endure it. Green eyes carry a rare spark. _She's not longing for anything. Not anymore…_

"Wait a minute. Can somebody tell me what the hell is going on? What are Quinn and psychotic Miss Betty doing together?"

Mercedes confused voice rings out. A couple of glee members nod their heads in agreement as Mr Schue rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. His eyes kept darting to the doorway hoping that Emma would just appear so that he didn't have to deal with this alone. They were all just…confused.

At the interruption, the softball player whispered some kind of reassurance. It caused a frozen Rachel Berry to relax. The previous deer in the headlights expression smoothed out into a manageable level of nervous. Nobody missed the gaze that was shared between the two. The pianist didn't face the others until the diva made _that_ minute nod and slight quirk of lips. Only then, did the glee club receive Quinn's unwavering attention. During the shift, the two girls slipped from their embrace. Immediately the brunette felt her hands clasp the blonde's arms. The taller girl paused, looking at her counterpart. She took the minute to softly interlace their fingers, all the while communicating with her eyes. _Calm down Rachel. _

Somehow she's strong and sure, when the diva isn't. It's…_something_.

"Well, this explains why Finn isn't here."

Kurt voiced. It's an observation that draws everyone's attention to the vacant chair. Quinn hardens a little. The automatic defensive process is halted by a soft squeeze of her hand. Rachel looks ahead, giving the blonde time. Breathing slowly, the pianist has never been so grateful. Sam sees the gesture and _like that_, his curiosity and puzzlement just seems to _go away_. Looking at the two, it's easy to understand. Beyond what everyone saw, there was a strange form of language, more distinctive than Morse code. _When_ a look of worry flashed in the singer's eyes, the taller girl would trace a design in her palm. _When_ the pianist would stiffen, dissociate, Rachel would bring her back to safety with a look, _a smile_ only to let her _go_ again...

Space… Sam realizes that it's something that Finn, Puck and himself had never been able to give Quinn. The boys had been so avid in the chase, vying for her favor but receiving her ire instead. Alarmingly, the little brunette singer had managed to find the peaceful in between. It's a symbiotic relationship that they both need. It's also a wonder that they've denied it for this long; Sam shook his head, turning with the others. By now, Kurt has rolled his eyes at the clueless bunch that was the majority of the club. He spoke slowly and directly.

"Quinn and Rachel are quite obviously _to-ge-ther._ When this happened I have no idea. Nevertheless girls, you have my blessing, I've never seen two people look so good in gowns together. If you reach the point where you start coordinating wardrobes, give me a call."

Rachel smiled at her friend. Her face must be like a tomato. Out of the corner of her eye, the singer thinks that she sees a flicker of amusement along with horror in the blonde's expression. The both remember the taller girl being dressed in argyle after the slushie incident at the start of the year. Mercedes's eyes flickered between the two and her mouth was open.

"But… How did this happen?"

Quinn opened her mouth to answer. However before she could get far, Santana cut in, impatient as ever. Her semblance of a good mood dissipated from the questioning.

"God, are you all stupid? Q helped Finn romance the dwarf, and somehow ended up liking her instead. Major case of Stockholm's syndrome I swear, but whatever. Then, they both became _very_ repressed causing Britts and I some extreme pain and aggravation. Now, Q has _finally_ gots her head out of her ass and Berry has given up her annoying tween fantasy of Finn Charming. That's it. We're done. Now can we please move on?"

Silence. Everyone is shocked by the Latina's outburst. Instinctively, Rachel leans in the blonde's side. _Instinctively, _Quinn squeezed the singer hand. She eyes her fiery friend, raising her brow. It caused Santana to shrug her shoulders nonchalantly.

"Hey, if I wanted to listen to ridiculous romance stories I'd let Britts make me watch The Notebook!"

Brittany pouted beside her darker haired counterpart. It was the one movie Santana wouldn't watch with her claiming that she would put her foot down. Most of the time the tall dancer forgot about it because Santana had the _best_ ways of distracting her. But, she decided she would try again tonight to get her best friend to watch the love story. At any rate the consolation prize was more than worth it. In her happy daze, the innocent ex-cheerleader does not notice the heartbroken gaze of the boy by the wheelchair. Artie looks to the floor, wondering how Finn was doing. They were the same, both of them lost to a girl. His voice comes out slightly bitter as he stares at Quinn.

"So what, are you two gay now?"

A pause. The pianist stiffens subconsciously. A loud groan erupts from Santana. If looks could kill than Artie would be ten feet below the ground. The only thing controlling her is Brittany's light grip on her arm. The tall dancer simply passes the boy a sad look. She _understands _that he must be hurt. It would take time but she's sure that he will find someone else. She recognizes that Santana is her _one_, the person she can't give up. A soft nervous cough comes from the side. Tina clears her throat, trying to calm her nerves. She might not stutter in real life but the attention of the entire club can be daunting.

"D-D-Does it matter? I mean it won't change the way we see them so…"

The statement is left open-ended. Most of the club begins to nod their heads. Artie has the decency to look ashamed. It was still weird, but no one could deny the difference in the girls. Suddenly, their blurry glasses were removed and they _see_ just the way Quinn looks at the singer, protective, reverent and _open_. They _register_ the ease and naturalness in the way that Rachel holds herself next to the taller girl. All of a sudden she's stronger, less frayed by her obsessions and more confident… They _question_ how they ever missed it before. Puck leans forward, throwing the girls his sexiest eyebrow raise.

"Makes no difference to me, it's still hot; my baby mama and my hot Jew together. Anytime you want some Puckerone in that, give me a call."

THWACK! The problem with dating most of the girls in a room is that when you do something wrong, they _all_ reserve the right to hit you. Mercedes aims to the back of his head. Santana punches through his meaty arms. The footballer winces. But what terrifies him is his girlfriend. Lauren puts him in a one-handed, painfully tight headlock and he falls out of his chair. There are chuckles all around. Rachel gasps covering her mouth in surprise. Quinn smirks, moving both their bodies to their chairs. They actually have to switch seats because the singer wouldn't release her hand. Flexing her fingers, the blonde really doesn't mind. The tan hand in hers_ is_ the fast beating of her heart and the fire under her skin. Mr Schue takes a final glance at the new couple before helping the Mohawk boy against the female wrestler. There are a million thoughts in his mind, not the least of which is the soft haunted gaze of the softball player when she said _sometimes it's about what you don't say… _The music teacher recognizes that a relationship that deep would be explosive. He thinks that they'll make it or – nobody else _will _stand a chance. 

"Alright. Guys, I think that's all the excitement we can handle today. Congratulations Quinn and Rachel, my door is always open. Otherwise I'll see you next week."

/

The choir room is empty. The last of the glee club has filtered out, giving each of the girls a pat of acceptance, a gesture of encouragement or an offer to help when things got unbearable. Now it's quiet, the two are _still_ in their seats. For the first time they're completely alone and they don't quite know what to do or say. Actually, that's a lie. _Everything_ is racing though their minds; they just can't pick which to start with. _Nothing _is between them anymore. There's no wall to climb. Rachel holds tighter, bringing their combined limbs into her lap. She's hypnotized, as the brightness in her soul gets impossibly greater. Should she confess her attachment? Or should Quinn apologize for _hers_? God knows indecision has caused them so much pain. Its funny, because today, this afternoon, they're next to each other and they've _given in. _All they have to do is… _start_. It's sounds easier than it is. The blonde shakes her head softly; her voice is gentle and caring. 

"I kind of need my hand back to get my stuff, Rachel."

The brunette doesn't acknowledge the comment. Her eyes are glazed over, staring at a point in the wall. It's sudden when she asks her battery of questions.

"What are we, Quinn? Is this real? Are you my girlfriend?"

The blonde notices the way the brunette seems to curl subtly. It's completely obvious how Rachel's hands grip tighter and how her body turns slightly in defense. Quinn sighs. She gives up trying to pack up her cluttered things and kneels in front of the brunette. The hand that isn't blissfully held captive goes behind the shorter girl's tan neck, bringing it down so that brown eyes were forced to gaze into clear hazel-greens. There's curiosity, willingness and _vulnerability_. Gradually, the blonde's breathing becomes shallower and her brows furrow. She tries to find the right words. Rachel is on a precipice. Her heart is jumping, throwing itself against her ribcage in anticipation; she isn't strong enough to handle another rejection. And then, _suddenly_…it _becomes_ easier. A realization dawns on the pianist as she learns that hurting the other girl just _will not_ happen. She's not capable. This time, it's _can't _and not _won't. _The warm hand clutching hers promises strength and happiness. Finally Quinn's voice croaks. There's not a second where her gaze breaks away.

"Look, Rachel…I don't know anymore than you do. But this…"

She makes a small flourishing gesture at the room and the lack of space in between them.

"…It's different to _anything_ I've done before. At the same time it's _good_. I'm _constantly_ on my feet. I _don'_t know what to expect and sometimes I'll feel so much that I'll _just _want to walk away… But here's the thing, _I_ won't… if _you_ won't."

A tear slips down the diva's cheek and Quinn brushes it away silently. Rachel whispers softly.

"I can't..."

Silence. The words cause ice to freeze in the blonde's veins and arteries. Her world swims.

"What?"

When the brunette notices the second interpretation of her words and she begins to shake her head frantically. The sadness that was returning to the pianist's green eyes was profound. Rachel drags Quinn's head to face her again, making sure that nothing got lost. They were too close now. Her voice is raw with meaning. Distantly she understands that she's giving the taller girl the knowledge to break her.

"I meant that…I _couldn't_ walk away from you, Quinn."

Time passes. The diva stares into the gaze of the taller girl. There's moisture accumulating behind green orbs. An _innocent _soft smile breaks on the pianist's pale features. Somehow, she looks like a person that believes in something again. She reminds Rachel of a child causing a strong wave of protectiveness to appear. The singer vows to guard that smile with everything that she has. Whereas Quinn takes a moment, she watches the thoughts in the singer's mind manifest outwardly on her face, _often_ with a small nose wrinkle or crinkling on the forehead. The blonde's hand rubs back and forth on a tan neck, until she has the seated vocalist's attention.

"Then we'll start like this. You, Rachel Berry, are the beautiful girl who has just broken up with her boyfriend… People say, that you're completely captivated by a certain blonde classmate."

Rolling her eyes, the singer blushed at the words. Quinn tilts her head charmingly as she continued.

"I, Quinn Fabray, am the stubborn, piano-playing, ex-cheerleader…who wants to take you out on a _first date_."

There's a brief gap. And Rachel's eyes widen at the meaning. The blonde leans slightly closer.

"So say yes… and we'll start from there."

Rachel tries but no sounds come out. Her mind screams yes. There are streams of relieved tears running down her face. Quinn thinks that it the most beautiful thing she's ever seen. After a while the singer gives up trying to speak. It was impossible when she felt like this. Weights were lifted. There was no heavy feeling in her heart and gut. She felt as if…dreams of Broadway wouldn't compare to this moment. Sparks jump across her skin, creating a warm feeling all over. She brings her head down, closing the distance. It's a simple kiss, undemanding and leisurely, but both girls feel the hidden charge. Quinn leans on the balls of her feet she attempts to reduce the space between them. In the course of the exchange Rachel's hands have let go of the blonde's. Instead encircling the pale neck. She's clinging for strength not to collapse because the rest of her body has slackened in the unexpected delight. The softball player grips both sides of the chair's back; it's a platform to get _closer_. Faintly the girls are glad that their lung capacities are better than average.

_Thank you Cheerios... _

_Thank you singing lessons... _

Still, humans need oxygen. It's a fact that is in their textbooks and study notes… But, the girls give defiance a fair go, anyway. Stubbornness and perhaps stupidity causes them continue despite the weird feeling in their head and pressure in their lungs. It's actually Rachel that has to break away first, her easily excitable nature hindering her ability. Quinn can't help but smirk. Their foreheads are pressed against each other as they recover. After a few minutes, the brunette asks.

"Can I have an itinerary for the date?"

No response. The blonde rolls her eyes in dry amusement. In the distance, the cleaner of McKinley hears a series of frustrated but pleading cries.

"Quinn!"

"_Come on._ I want to be prepared. An itinerary will help us avoid any mishaps, regarding clothing, shoes and areas like that. "

When the workman gets closer, he'll think that he hears a petulant foot stomp and a soft whine.

"Quinn, stop smirking at me!"

Towards the end, when he starts to scrape gum of the school's front doors, he'll _see _an exasperated blonde leading a smaller brunette to a red car. The cleaner will stop and smile because he recognizes the look in her eyes; it's the same expression he wears around his wife. Familiar lights dancing behind green orbs. It's a sign that all souls wear, as distinct as military dog tags for their significant other. They're in love. His shoulders relax. By now, the shorter girl has made it to the passenger seat. The taller one is closing the door making sure that all fingers are clear. The way that she lingers, the way that she smiles _because_ and _not_ in spite of the demands that are being placed, tells him that, she'll give the brunette everything that she wants…and _all_ that she afraid to ask for.

/

The next few days pass like an uncomplicated blur. During the first, Rachel was standing by her locker, retrieving her books. An unshakeable smile was on her face. After Quinn had dropped her off, they had stayed in constant communication with text messages, instant messages and Myspace comments. It had come to the point where Leroy actually carried his daughter to her bed, claiming that she didn't want to develop raccoon eyes for her newly minted girlfriend. There was a moment where the brunette froze. The tall African American simply grinned bringing the comforter up, he promised to keep it from his husband until she was ready. The diva then waited for sleep to come but something was missing. Blindly her hand reached around. Suddenly, a letterman is held in front of her. She's sheepish and her daddy is awkward. They don't say anything. Rachel wraps the sports jacket around her shoulders. Leroy turns her light out, walking out. It's a soft pressure on her cheek that brings her out of the memory, a chaste kiss.

A steady thrum vibrates under her skin. Rachel turns to see the blonde next to her locker. For a moment they both smile, enjoying the vision of the other. It's calming and more than slightly ridiculous because their separation has been _less_ than a day. The brunette's hands go to brush a rebellious strand of blonde hair back behind pale ears. Just when contact is about to be made, she stops. Her eyes dart around. There are more than a few curious gazes at their proximity. The singer's smile drops and she becomes uncertain. The ex-cheerleader falters. Her heart ached at the lack of expected contact. Some soft murmurs make it to her ears. And _in a second_, there's no thought and no deliberation necessary. The fact that Rachel had stopped to protect Quinn's reputation, makes the decision easier. It reminds her that nobody else matters; it's her turn to be selfish. So with a step forward she's barely an inch away from the diva. Her free hand reaches for a small tan one. The brunette's relieved joyful expression is Quinn's light at the end of the tunnel. She comes to the understanding that she'll always perform the action that will bring it about.

Life in McKinley is actually easier than expected. Mentally, the pianist thanks Kurt for paving the way. People were mostly the same. The ones that the blonde had protected from Kelsey _still_ looked up at her in admiration. The ones that she had told off _still_ avoided her gaze in hallways, moving along quietly. The few that might have considered voicing something unsavory were silenced by the appearance of a threatening Puck or a sneering Santana. The two self-proclaimed ruffians did it, partly to appease their begrudging soft spot for the diva and partly, so that the pianist _wouldn't _have to. And so, an unspoken rule was made, no harm would come to Rachel Barbra Berry, lest you incur the anger and return of HBIC Quinn Fabray.

The second and the third days played out in much the same manner. Quinn would greet the diva by her locker with a slow and sometimes teasing kiss. She would take her to all of her classes. Instinctively, when the blonde's hand would drop, the diva would meet it. Once again, the softball player might be selfish but Rachel remembers that _she, _herself, is an opportunist. The diva sneaks quick caresses and basks in any sort of contact. They would eat lunch with Brittany and Santana. The two couples would take turns at embarrassing the other. However, with Quinn's pale skin and Rachel's natural low humiliation thresholds, it was easy to guess who had won. The girls are waiting for the other shoe to drop. When it doesn't, they'll wonder is this is _it, _if this was their reward for _all_ past heartbreaks… If so, they _are _grateful.

And just like that, it's the weekend. The sun casts a warm blanket over town whilst the light blue sky looks completely untroubled… In different parts of town there are two girls preparing for their first date.

/

Quinn is outside of the Berry home. Now, standing in front on the porch, she wonders why she never got so close before. Was she really so reluctant, so scared, of feeling something for the singer if she did? Looking up to the sky, she marvels that it didn't do much good, because under the light morning breeze, she's actually _just a little_ jittery and hungry for some contact. It brings a slight smile to her face as she straightens out the last creases on her powdered blue dress. Her white oxford shirt flaps against her body impatiently.

Rachel is inside. She's up in her room, staring out her window with nervous anticipation. In her excited daze she actually misses the blonde girl who has already made it to the door. The diva would go to a large mirror, only brush her hair again and make a small twirl. _She's _in love with a girl and _that_ would only be the beginning. The brunette would hold the McKinley letterman she has on her bed, up in the light, questioning the ethical issues against keeping it. _Oh, what the heck. _A mischievous smile would eventually appear and she would decide to wear it instead.

Finally, the ex-cheerleader knocks on the door. A small man dressed in a light pink button up shirt and an argyle sweater answers the door. Quinn really has to resist the urge to chuckle because hey, Rachel _had _to get it somewhere. When she's sure that she's got it under control she meets his eyes. She wonders if he will be as forgiving as his husband. Suddenly, the blonde straightens; her voice is polite and respectful.

"Hello Mr Berry, I'm here for Rachel."

The man readjusted his glasses on the bridge of his nose. He has a kind expression as he takes a peek behind her shoulder. The father seems to be distracted by something.

"Call me, Hiram. You must be one of Rachel's new friends. She tells me that she's been making a few new ones this year. Nevertheless I don't think today is the best time. She's kind of busy today."

Hiram explains happily, bouncing on the balls of his feet. At this, Quinn _does_ chuckle. There's a wide-eyed glee in his eyes as he scans the road for his daughter's supposed suitor. Would he be disappointed when he discovered the truth? For the brunette, she hopes not. But even _if_, the ex-cheerleader knows that she'll persevere regardless. _Just_ to make sure that Rachel has nothing sad to sing about. A smile, on one hand, is _beautiful_ _**but**_ it is actually the shorter girl's voice that is the softball player's haven, her incentive. Even against the pianist's wishes, Rachel's voice will always bring her calm and a temporary break from being..._Quinn Fabray._ At that moment, Leroy comes in from another room. He waves to the blonde, a gesture that she returns. The African American tilts his head strangely as he registers the fact that the shorter man still hasn't let the girl in. Approaching the duo he catches his husband's words. It causes him to roll his eyes in exasperation.

"Hiram."

"What? Oh hello Lee. I was just explaining to this young girl that today wasn't the best day to hang out with Rachel. After all, she has that date tha – "

The significantly taller man shakes his head disbelievingly.

"_Hiram._"

Leroy is ignored and waved away as the smaller father continues his train of thought.

"– she's been so excited for. I've never seen her so… happy. I think I approve already!"

It takes all that the ex-cheerleader has, _not to_ break into old habits of snickers and sarcasm. There's mirth in her eyes as she entertains a notion in her head. In the mental scenario, Hiram is dangling a nice piece of fish and Quinn is the cat. Her instincts and personality tried to get her to say something, _do _something. More than ten, less than fifty, that's the number of mocking remarks she could have, _would have _made, _if_ she didn't have something worth losing. Thankfully, Leroy intervenes.

"Hiram!"

"What? Leroy honestly! I'm trying to talk to this young lady here. Stop being rude."

As Hiram begins to turn towards the blonde again, a firm dark arm stops him. Leroy shoots Quinn an apologetic glance as he leans down towards his husband.

"_That_ young lady is your daughter's date. Let her through the door already, before Rachel realizes and comes down to yell at you for making her girlfriend wait outside!"

At this point, the tall African American has to wonder how his daughter hasn't caught the ruckus downstairs. He was more than shocked that she wasn't barreling herself into the softball player's arms after walking on air all week. Still, it was wonderful to see her so happy. Leroy would just make a mental note to keep tabs on that relationship. Whilst he admired Quinn, such total dependence and immersion in another could be…damaging. Especially when you had love as your unwitting guide. Unbeknownst to the three downstairs, Rachel was lingering on the top of the staircase away from view. At first, after hearing noises, she had simply come out to check on her fathers, they always _did _have trouble saying 'no' to door-to-door salesman. But upon encountering Quinn's voice, her balance was thrown. The soft lilt in the pianist's tone brought butterflies to her stomach. And, the imagined brilliance of the ex-cheerleader's likely appearance caused her mouth to get dry. Her breathing would become erratic, _because this time,_ it would be all _for_ her. Hiram rubs the back of his head confusedly. 

"But Rachel said she was dating a blonde – "

"– with green eyes. Yes, and take a look honey, _she_ has those traits."

Leroy finishes, interrupting Hiram's confusion. The pianist takes the time to set the record straight. In a corner of her mind, a few things tease her thoughts. Was she not good enough? Who was the father expecting? And did it matter? She begins with a strong introduction.

"I'm Quinn Fabray. Hiram, it's nice to meet you."

This seems to shake the short man out of his reverie. An embarrassed blush appears on his cheeks as he gives his husband a firm stare. Neither he nor Rachel appreciated being the fool. Leroy's brand of humor was strange in the household. The price of love, Hiram shakes his head to himself. He goes to greet the blonde properly.

"It's nice to meet – wait a moment, Fabray? As in slushie queen Fabray?"

Four reactions happen to four different people. The short father's lips begin to thin. Quinn flinched, as familiar feelings of self-loathing seep in with the nickname. Leroy stiffens as he looks away and to the floor. The taller man understands the young girl in front of him better than he's let on. _He_ used to be her. _Popular. _And Rachel worries, she fears that the past isn't something that her Dad can learn to accept, she fears that this will cause the pianist to walk away. Most of all, the diva fears that the tone of the conversation will lead to the blonde's deterioration, a spiral back to indifference and pain, _everyday_. The singer wants to run downstairs but she's frozen. Hiram's hard expression lets out a grunt.

"Hmph."

Anger and grief clouds his bespectacled eyes _because_ he's a father. He's had to watch his daughter cry herself to sleep on the account of the girl standing in the doorstep. Somehow, in his haze he turns to his one, his trusted other. Sensing this, Leroy looks up sadly, meeting the gaze. And like that, in a _second,_ Hiram softens. He turns to the ex-cheerleader. His voice is soft but steady.

"Do you regret your actions in the past?"

Quinn's mouth opens to speak but no words come out. Her reactions and responses are a jumbled mess. When she had given in to her feelings for the singer, she wasn't completely put together. There was the familiar, cold and calculating HBIC of McKinley. And then there was the vulnerable little girl who had been thrown out by her parents, all the while, plagued by notions of worthlessness and disgrace. The person that she wants to be is trapped between the two. But around the brunette, old scars begin to heal and past misconceptions get righted. Quinn is learning to feel… Rachel is her _best_ place to start and her _only_ place to end. The softball player wants to say it out loud but she's not there yet, so, instead she chokes out a monosyllabic confession.

"Yes..."

The storm behind her green eyes goes through Hiram. Suddenly, he's thrown back to his high school years and his vision blurs with tears. The small glasses wearing man was by no means popular, attacked every day for his quirky nature and misfit clothes. He remembers the pain felt from each barb and each callous rejection. It's not fair because the father _does_ understand that the Quinn isn't that person. She's not _his _tormentor. However, there's something in the way she carries herself, in her stance, in her words and in her tone that reminds him. His voice cracks when he asks the lingering question. Leroy observes quietly from the side whilst Rachel listens patiently from above.

"Why do you popular kids do it? It's always the same people who get picked on. Do you not realize our pain?"

It pierces Quinn's armor. She recalls that look of _same _hurt in slightly different brown eyes…_Rachel's._

"I – I don't…"

The blonde's fists clench. She tries to gather her thoughts. Upstairs the brunette closes her eyes, silently lending the softball player strength. This chapter of their relationship had been resolved. Quinn had been forgiven. Now, she just needed to adjust. The singer moves to sit against the railings, it astounds her that she _is_ all right with this disruption of plans and schedules. They should have been on their date by now. But interestingly, there are things that matter to her _more: _her fathers and …_Quinn Fabray._

The taller girl downstairs believes in very little, starting with God and ending with music. Still, in the front door of the Berry household her eyes flicker and waves of strange energy crawl across her nerve endings. The pressure in her mind and body filters out and she's standing a little taller. The softball player begins to place her faith in one more thing, _Rachel Barbra Berry... _It's like an invisible push of courage and _finally_, she's able to answer honestly.

"It's not that we don't notice. In fact, the pain is often the aspect that we know the best. We pick _exactly_ the right words to hurt others, but the reason _why,_ changes, depending on the person. _I_ just wanted to make someone feel worse than me. Because if I could break a _good_ person, if I could drag somebody like _Rachel_ down to my level then maybe, _just maybe_, I wasn't so bad…"

A silence happens as the words sink in. Leroy watches with painful understanding. He shares a certain link to the ex-cheerleader. He also knows that Hiram needed to hear this from someone else, a third party of sorts. The diva feels her hands shake as she tries to steady herself on the railings. She always knew, but it sounds different out loud. For the first time, she registers how high the softball player has held her. Rachel was, no, _is_ her standard of morality.

"Hiram, it isn't a reflection on you, but on the one that does the bullying. I _won't_ hurt your daughter."

The blonde speaks with certainty. It is_ that_ simple. The small in stature father can see it. The ex-cheerleader would not intentionally harm his daughter. He imagines that it'll damage her more than she can endure. His eyes are wide as he surveys her features. A strange need to trust begins to grow. Resignedly he nods. Slowly, his features relax and he returns to the cheery version of himself that had answered the door. All is good. The switch is jarring but all people in the house are relieved. Hiram claps his hands in glee.

"Good! I'll go grab Rachel for you. Please, Quinn come on in."

The blonde does not move. She's shocked by the complete 180 shifts and frankly, a little afraid. The argyle wearing father skips up the stairs, humming a how tune. As he disappears two scenes happen. The first is downstairs. Leroy waves the Quinn inside.

/

"You know, you _can _come in."

"No thanks. I think I'd rather wait out here. The sun's nice."

Quinn answers quickly. The two hold a staring contest but before the end they're _both _smirking. The ex-captain will not go in and it has _nothing _to do with the weather. The tall father moves to lean against the doorjamb. His eyes shine with amusement.

"Scared?"

"…Petrified."

The answer comes out naturally, _softly_. The blonde's eyes widen comically when she realizes what she's said. Somehow, around _this_ family, she's not reserved and more than a bit open. Leroy scratches his cheek.

"Yes. To some, Hiram is only good in small doses."

It's said wistfully. Leroy taps a beat on the wooden door and Quinn hums a tune to match. The both reflect on their counterparts. The African American thinks about the trials that he and his husband has gone through in this small town. He questions the person that would exist in his place if he had never met the short engineer. Nobody worth knowing, he supposed. The blonde thinks about her first meeting with Rachel's fathers and how their personalities were melded together to form the distinct entity that captivated her. An errant thought does a sinful thing and pictures a little culmination of the brunette and _her_. The blurry image _doesn't_ scare her and _that_ strikes her hard. She swallows, as Leroy's last words repeat in her mind… He was mistaken. Rachel was good in _any _dose…

/

On the other side, Hiram has just made it up the staircase. He sees the back of his daughter leaning against the railings and decides to accompany her. It doesn't surprise him that she's probably been here listening the whole time. So they just sit there. The father takes in everything from the stillness of the air to the minute changes in his daughter. Rachel's eyes are closed with her head tilted back. She's breathing slowly and her lips bear the traces of a smile. The facial features that are normally tensed with determination were completely slackened. The lack of effort in her expression is _really not_ a measure of the depth of her feelings. It's simply that, for once, she does not need to embellish or overstate her happiness. This time, she does not need to reassure or convince herself of the truth of her attachment.

She _wants _this, more than anything else_ but_ she's still sitting here, because they all _need_ a moment. There are only few people in life that Rachel will wait for and undoubtedly the tall blonde downstairs was one of them, probably the _most important_ one right now.Hiram throws his only thought out there.

"She…she seems like a good person, Rachel. But, I think you already knew that."

There's a small gap. Something flickers behind her expression. She expels a light breath and speaks to the ceiling.

"Not always."

The confession is said in a whisper. When she looks down, all she sees is the confused eyes of her father.

"Rachel?"

Another deep breath is taken. She sighs as she runs her hand through her perfectly brushed brown locks. The singer's eyes begin to glaze over and her memories pull her in.

"There was a moment where I thought I could actually hate her…"

Her head is tilted with curiosity, at a point in the wall. Hiram thinks about bringing her back but he's afraid to break the spell. Whatever the recollection was, it's been a well-kept secret for a long time. Her hands start to wring in her lap when she narrates.

"Back in freshman year I thought Quinn and I could be great friends. And then, the slushies came. I don't know Dad, but for a second, I _did_ hate her. I couldn't understand why… After school that day, I saw her at my locker and she had a note in her hands."

Rachel stopped speaking. Her eyes are shut as her body rocks softly. Her hand moves to get something that isn't there. She remembers feeling an intense dislike masked by a deeper desire to shake, push and scratch at the blonde to _make _her honest. The singer remembers wanting to get behind and _under_ the layers of the then head Cheerio. Well, she's _is_ now. Hiram brings her hanging limb back down. He speaks gently.

"Honey, you have to finish the story."

This seems to break her out of her trance. Rachel looks into his warm brown eyes.

"I think she was confused. Quinn kept moving back and forth. She looked like she was about to have a psychotic break, but in the end, somebody called her name and she just _walked_ away. She threw the note in the bin."

"You read it didn't you?"

Hiram asks even if it isn't actually a question. But, he'll do her a favor and pretend that it is. There's no judgment, just a loyal understanding. The diva tries to shrug her shoulder nonchalantly.

"All it said was sorry and a series of equations."

"Why the equations?"

Rachel looks up at her father. Her answer spills from her lips in a torrent of frustration.

"Because, I offered to help her catch up with math just before she blew up on me. Ms Sylvester had forced her to miss the last couple of classes for some sort of cheerleading boot camp. Seriously Dad, I don't want to know what goes on with that woman and the big deserted woods!"

There's fire in her eyes and her previous hasty personality shows. For the first time, Hiram recognizes how much the blonde has changed his daughter. Somehow, because the differences had been so incremental her hadn't detected anything at all. But now, without Quinn, he remembers how unstable his daughter could be. Passion, kindness, jealousy and righteous anger, it could hardly all fit into one person _without _some sort of disturbance. The ex-cheerleader had just managed to reduce it to a barely noticeable feature, not so dissimilar as to a distinctive freckle. Hiram and Leroy had suspected that through everything Rachel's exaggerations had been the result of insecurity and dashing hopes. The blonde must have balanced it, _somehow…_

"Honey…you're off-track."

The diva turns her head to the side to give her father a contemplative look. She takes out a notepad and ben and begins sketch a few mathematical curves.

"If you combine the seven equations together on a graphics calculator it comes up into a sad face."

There it was. Two circles for eyes: 'Y' equals square root of one minus 'x' minus four in brackets squared. And then… a positive quadratic curve for the frown. Rachel looks down at her picture. Her heart jumps and she feels her care for the pianist swell. Hiram pries the sheet of paper from his daughter, taking a glance.

"Well, that's certainly a unique way of doing things."

The diva smiles to herself. Her brown eyes have a breathtaking shine.

"Yeah, I thought so too. You know, she was behind on the subject already. We hadn't actually gotten to the math required for it yet… So, it meant that no matter what; her actions _did_ matter to her. And, in a weird way, so did I. How do you hate someone like that?"

Hiram just nods. His voice is sincere.

"You _don't_… C'mon let's go. She's waiting for you."

The father moves to stand. Before he gets anywhere Rachel has a firm hold on his pant trousers. It was like what she did when she was young, afraid of being lost in a Barbra Streisand CD signing. A familiar looking lost expression appeared.

"Dad, do you think I'm doing the right thing by taking this chance?

Hiram sighs squatting back down. He takes his glasses off to clean them with a handkerchief cloth.

"I could never answer that for you, Rachel. But love… it's never the wrong choice. That's what you've always believed in... Plus, even if it _were _wrong or a big mistake, you'd go downstairs and be with her anyway."

He speaks because he knows the spark that he sees in his daughter. It doesn't take a rocket scientist. She's already_ there. _Hiram imagines that there are a lot of people that rush into a relationship without the slightest bit of knowledge about what they are getting into. They could have been fools, teenagers in lust or even an adult in desperation. But, _his_ daughter was rushing in because, she _does in fact _know, she understands_._ More than anything it doesn't _matter because _this is a deeper, more mature type of affection. It's _thrilling_ and with the guaranteed chance of unconditional surrender to your emotions, to the _other _person…

"Let's get you to that date."

/

Quinn is standing at the door, waiting. She rolls her neck around, enjoying the light breeze. Finally, there comes a clutter as Hiram comes down the stairs. The pianist straightens automatically. First, there is a small tan arm sliding tortuously, slowly down the banister. And then, the scene is followed by the hints of a nicely defined calf. Rachel practically glides to the ground level.

And the softball player's legs don't buckle. Her vision does not swim and she's _not_ thrown into a state of euphoria. No, because this isn't a paperback romance novel. There was no need to lie, or overact because it was real and it was theirs. The princess in this story was someone the ex-cheerleader could touch and _yearned_ to unravel. It is the singer's imperfections which irritate, enthrall _and captivate_, like a siren's call. So, even if the pianist was still standing, there were a few things that did happen. The blonde's eyes _**did**_trail over the diva's figure from head to toe, appreciatively and reverently. The brunette wore a soft pink t-shirt and her classic plaid short skirt. The usual argyle was traded in for a McKinley Lettermen causing Quinn's hand to twitch. The simplicity of the gesture spoke volumes, marking each of them for the other. _Say you're mine... I'm yours…_

The taller girl _**did**_have to switch her breathing from her nose to her mouth. It was just easier to get oxygen in that way and her brain was seriously deprived. Rachel was getting reducing the distance in between. And the words that were jumbling around in the ex-captain's mind were less than intelligent, overtaken and outbid by the grin that broke over her features. The only other aspect was that Quinn's thoughts _**did**_ take a slow stroll on the wild side. This caused a warm flush to manifest along her neck and chest. She continued to stare, meeting warm amused browns.

Rachel reached the foot of the stairs and the pianist found herself stepping past the house's threshold. Her reservations upon entering were forgotten in the need to be _closer._ Questions that were raised earlier were also answered. There were a lot of ways to validate one's worth but the blonde realizes that she's finally good enough because the singer _chose _her. And even if she wasn't, it _didn't_ matter because the singer chose_ her_.

When Lucy Quinn Fabray extends her hand… When Rachel Barbra Berry accepts... Two people's happiness becomes _intertwined_ and _dependent_ on each other. The ex-captain makes a split-second decision to change their plans. It occurs to her that they could just _talk_ for the day, until they had nothing left to say. Everything would be all right because when words were lacking, they could look and hold each other instead. It's communication _all the same,_ and that's all they want…

/

"It's not an itinerary, if you don't follow it Quinn."

Rachel states as they speed pass the mile marker for the highway. The blonde had been strangely vague since the moment they entered the car. The brunette stares at the sheet, trying to find a clue or something that she's missed. It's only when they pass another road sign that the pianist turns her head answers. There's a small smile on her face. She seems torn between excitement and a small sense of apprehension. There are some parts of her past that she's never considered sharing. Now, with the diva in the passenger seat, she finds that it's the only place that she wants to go. Her voice is light and teasing.

"And it's not a surprise if you already know what going to happen."

Rachel makes a small face. Her nose scrunches and the pianist lets herself think that it's adorable. She let's herself do a lot of things now, not the least of which is to graze, brush and trace parts of the diva. She thinks that it feels better than freedom. It feels like _love _because nothing else ever came close: not Puck, not Finn and not Sam. The shorter girl's rambling brings her out of her haze.

"There's nothing wrong with being prepared."

Quinn doesn't say anything for a while. There's a slight congestion on the road so she takes the time to analyze the brunette. Rachel is something that the blonde never thought she would be able touch. But when the singer is siting beside her and when she is wearing her lettermen, the blonde begins to believe that she can, that she was _supposed_ to all along. Finally after a swallow she manages to ask.

"Were you prepared for this? _Us?_"

Blushing, the singer looks down to her lap. Was there a right response to that? She _had _an answer, but she wasn't sure if it would scare Quinn away. Rachel had contingency plans for everything. She starts to realize that maybe Finn Hudson wasn't Plan A. Because, being here with the pianist, it doesn't shock her. It feels like simple progression, a natural inevitability. She knows that any contact between them would singe and inspire. And mentally, she's ready… Her body just seems to change her expectations, _every time. _So yes, she was prepared, but then again, when those hazel greens pierce through her, she really _isn't._ Quinn pulls the car over to a resting bay. There isn't a universe where she's willing to risk the shorter girl's life. Gently, she takes one of the diva's hands and near whispers.

"Look, Rachel. Can you trust me?"

The brunette lets out a breath. She's staring at their combined hands when she murmurs. Her heart isn't on her sleeve. It's in her touch, it's in the blonde's pocket and it's in the air in the car compartment.

"I know you think it's stupid Quinn, but I already do."

"_Why?"_

The softball player asks, feeling stronger by the singer's words alone. An immeasurable sense of contentment threatens her composure. Her finger draws an outline over small tan hands. It's easy like this when they know that the answer is always going to be yes. Rachel smiles shyly.

"Why do you believe in me?"

Quinn tilts her head, somehow Rachel has learnt the art of double speak. Though technically it is the perfect reply because their reasons are the same. In their minds they admit.

_Because you're what I understand best even when nothing else is constant and even my defenses fail._

/

The girls eventually make it to the destination. It's a mixed market next to a lake, past a well-worn dirt road. There are a decent number of people milling about, but not so much as so you would feel suffocated or indifferent. It's three hours away from Lima and situated so that you would only find it if you knew it was there. Rachel notices the soft bittersweet sadness in the blonde's eyes. Quinn gives her memories a moment before getting out and opening the door for the singer. It's a sunny Saturday and a light breeze rolls across the lakeside. They're standing at the start, the first of many stalls. There's a community aspect as farmers take the time to entertain young children and offer their produce. Travelling carpenters and leather workers offer their wares, happy to engrave the story, the memory of the day for their customers onto something tangible. There's food and there's jewelry. There are buskers and dancers but perhaps most importantly there's a story to tell. The pianist's hands squeeze Rachel's, taking the first step down the long line of shops. They've _got_ time.

Through the day, they walk pass so many things, stopping at a stall with handmade scarves and trinkets. They make each other try on the most ridiculous choices, laughing and admiring the results. The softball player buys the one that the singer lingers on, _secretively._ They're so far away from home that they can be somebody different. Quinn is more vulnerable and Rachel is more spontaneous. When they leave behind a small gadget booth, the softball player picks up a Polaroid camera. On some steps she snaps a perfect picture, where they're giddy for no apparent reason at all, on other steps the diva takes the machine from the ex-cheerleader's hands only to catch her unaware with a flash. In those images there's a shine to hazel green eyes that's sweet, kind and honest. To anyone, it's clear that the person in the image cares about the photographer. It's the most captivating aspect because the model is _open_…Rachel feels her breath catch, she lowers the machine and they share a smile.

The girls go through old records at the music stand. Quinn browses the classical and contemporary whereas Rachel goes to the show-tunes. It's relaxed because they don't need to be doing the same things to be _together_. The blonde has to roll her eyes when the brunette finds a rare copy of Streisand or original soundtrack to Rent. She just a little embarrassed when the singer jumps and squeals hugging her, the seller, and those nearby. The child-like qualities of the shorter girl amuse and endear, causing the ex-captain to brush a loose strand back behind Rachel's steadily reddening ear. The singer is just a little weak under all the attention.

Somewhere down the line after they eat their fill of fruit and exotic bread, they're collapsed on the lush green pasture. The girls lie on their backs next to each other, with laced hands. Rachel points out strange cloud formations and Quinn explains the way they are made. The blonde doesn't have to because they're actually in the same science classes, but it's something that interests her and the diva likes hearing her voice. For once, she doesn't feel the need to give her two cents.

After a while Quinn slowly sits up leaning on her elbows. She keeps the brunette's left hand in hers, tan and white rubbing against the other. The small bouts of friction keep her grounded. Thoughts and worries that would have otherwise fractured her are dimmed to a tickling buzz. Her eyes are closed and she's in a _good_ place. The sun is warm on her skin. The wind carries the soft smell of cookies, strawberries and cinnamon to her nostrils. And Rachel seems like an old, long acquainted presence. Everything seems different now. Now that, the diva's company doesn't scare her and the blonde isn't _alone_…

Clearing her throat she speaks wistfully.

"My father brought me to this market every year when we lived in Bellevue. It was before he got the big job and found a friend in alcohol."

Without any sound, the singer sits up. She hadn't expected this but when the words registered, tears came to her eyes. The pianist was so _unguarded, vulnerable_. The brunette's wanted this for a long time but now that she has it, she has no idea what to do with it. All the grand gestures that she had pictured seem hollow and contrived. Now, there's no template to follow. She learns to let her body guide her. Rachel's free hand wants to circle the blonde's pale neck, so it _does. _Her lungs want to share the same air so Quinn's head is pulled slightly lower to lean on hers. Her brain _wants_ a vacation so her heart takes control. She manages to say.

"I'm sorry, Quinn"

Deep breathes. The softball player's eyes are shut tight. Her body only moves to inhale and exhale. The next words blow across the singer's skin.

"Why? I'm not."

Rachel shudders and the way that they're connected makes it obvious. Quinn feels a sense of exhilaration. Gently, she pulls back to look into the diva's brown eyes. That in itself, is a battle because space was the enemy and something stronger than magnetism was bringing them together now. They hold a gaze and share a moment. The blonde's eyes scan the surroundings briefly before returning to the entrancing singer. The Mona Lisa might as well have been a two-year-old child's finger-painting in comparison. Something crosses Quinn's features, stealing Rachel's remaining air supply. She _sees_ everything in those green eyes now. And, a tiny smile appears on the pianist's expression, she tells a story, _hers. _

"This was the place where, Lucy met Quinn. The summer before I transferred. He cancelled our trip for work, so I went by myself. I got into so much trouble…"

Her tone is one of bitter disbelief. Rachel does the only thing she knows at the moment. She cradles the blonde's head to her body and rocks slowly. Surprisingly Quinn _lets _her. A bird lands half a meter away, tilting its head strangely at the conjoined couple. The singer stares back, her arms tighten and she wants to stay here, Rachel wants to protect the pianist for as long as she'll let her. This place… suddenly she sees it in a different light. Every young blonde girl was _Quinn,_ from the girl eating her lunch to the one enjoying face painting. It's like a slow movie. And the diva thinks that she watching a private screening. She's barely able to ask.

"Why bring me here then? If it brings back bad feelings."

The ex-cheerleader stills and then she pulls away. Not completely, but just so they're on equal footing again. She leans forward, placing a soft kiss on the singer's lips. She traces her tongue across the seam the diva's mouth. Rachel opens automatically, following every movement. She doesn't lead because this wasn't her message. She was just the receiver. Quinn's hands are planted on either side of Rachel so she can control herself. _Slow. This was supposed to be…slow. _If all kisses were a dance. Theirs would be a smooth waltz. Step. Turn. Come back. _Lift._ Turn. Every touch is barely there, teasing. Every rub is worshipping. They break apart and the softball player whispers.

"Because near to you, it doesn't…"

/

The girls return to the walkway of street shops. It's darker now, the sun begins to set and lantern lights are brought out. In their absence, everything has changed. Shopkeepers have switched around and were now selling different gadgets and antiquities. There's a different atmosphere as families have taken their kids home and couples come out to share the night. Quinn turns to the singer. She lifts the small tan hand in hers and presses her lips against it, holding the position for a while and holding the diva's gaze. Rachel feels a fiery flush as she tries to duck her head away. Her body won't let her, the elation causes her to tremble and almost stumble. The ex-captain's hands instinctively wrap around the small waist.

A couple paces down, a young man in a college sweatshirt gets on his knees. He brings a modest shiny metal from his pocket, proffering it to the petite girl in front of him. _Her_ arms are crossed, as she shook her head disbelievingly. There are happy tears in her eyes as she tries to answer. The girl in simple t-shirt and jeans had no idea. The male college student moves to stand, worried by the signs of sadness. But the girl drops to her knees, joining him on the floor. She repeats that the crying is in a good way. They're not that much older than the Rachel and Quinn, themselves, on their first year of independence. By now, a crowd had drawn and the diva drags the ex-captain nearer. She bounces excitedly at the scene, riveted. The pianist takes a cursory glance at the scene before focusing on the singer. She can't keep her eyes off _her_ own animated girl, connected by the hands. Quinn is nervous enough as is; she wonders how the man must feel. Based on the shaky smiles and the adoring eyes, they're not so different…

The young man stands, bringing the girl up with him. The ring glitters on her finger. They're not even aware of the attention, so immersed by the other. _Dance with me_, her asks. He tries to move her around but it's hard because she's kind of frozen. _There's no music_ she says, slightly embarrassed. A light appears behind his eyes as he grins goofily. It's low and off tune but his rough voice carries the start of a song. The girl laughs, shaking her head. It's their song. They begin to move.

When the rain is blowing in your face

And the whole world is on your case

He's struggling with the notes and Rachel tugs Quinn's hand insistently. She has _that_ look on her face and a brilliant restlessness in her frame. The blonde feels the comings of a smile. It almost seems like she'll never be able to say no again. The softball player lets their hands swing slightly before nodding resignedly. They let go. The ex-cheerleader signals to a nearby busker and grabs an old keyboard from one of the second hand stores. Slowly but surely as the different instruments filter in, it becomes more like a song. She looks up, giving the brunette an encouraging look. It seems to be enough because Rachel starts to sing, taking over.

I could offer you a warm embrace

To make you feel my love

Quinn sways naturally to the beat, letting the singer's voice fill her. It causes sparks to flow down her spine, as she feels stronger, she feels _there. _The couple gives them a thankful look before continuing. It's interesting because this is different to any other performance, unplugged and stripped bare. Rachel has no reputation to uphold as she moves around. She doesn't have to be perfect and it's a relief. It's almost as if this whole day was a fairytale away from home. Bits of her personality and feelings weave through her voice. And, she's always staring at Quinn. Music is their language.

When the evening shadows and the stars appear

And there's no one there to dry your tears

I could hold you for a million years

To make you feel my love

The two girls smile to themselves. And it's as if their gazes were _tangible_ forces because Rachel feels sheltered and the ex-captain feels whole. Their skin glows under the makeshift streetlights. The whole path seems to have separated into distinct patches as couples pair up and dance. Somehow Quinn hears her own voice before she registers telling herself to sing.

Oh I know you haven't made your mind up yet

But I will never do you wrong

Rachel smiles, looking to the ground. A nearby boy asks her to dance. Quinn almost finds it amusing as the singer stutters in her rejection. The blonde shakes her head, letting her finger go over the keyboard. It's so old that some keys are off-tune but it just seems to make the moment more enchanting. Because…nobody seems to care about much, _except_ for the person next to them, opposite them or behind them. She continues.

I knew right from the moment that we met

No doubt in my mind we belong

It's a nice song, the softball player would admit, but it's not theirs. It wasn't anything at first sight for the girls. Quinn had been rather numb during her first meeting with the diva; her dad and mom had been pressuring her to do better in he studies. Still, the taller girl does wonder what it would be like if they knew everything they knew now, right from the start. Would they have been stronger? Would it be better? It's one of those questions that don't really have an answer and the pianist doesn't mind. They were different people back then. _She_ would have never entertained the notion and _Rachel _would have given up. Time made them wiser. The ex-captain is brought back to the present by the singer's voice.

I'd go hungry I'd go black and blue

I'd go crawling down the avenue

With each word, Rachel takes a series of shy steps forward, through the dancers, _through_ the masses. They're both smiling.

No there's nothing that I wouldn't do

She reaches Quinn and they're face to face. The diva is standing on the opposite side of the keyboard. Brown eyes lighten and she leans slightly forward. There's suddenly not a lot that the blonde knows how to do at the moment, in _this_ proximity. She swears the shorter girl's gaze is running along the curves of her body like a hand… She shivers.

To make you feel my love

Rachel takes the pianist's hands off the keys. And kisses them both. It's reminiscent of the action Quinn made at the start. A fire begins to build and the athlete feels restless. The brunette finally lets go, and plays a few notes that she remembers from the song. The taller girl can do nothing but watch. She's so far gone…and it's _ok. _

Rachel looks up slowly, meeting her look. Her voice seems thicker. Quinn thinks it sounds more attractive that way.

Oh when the storms raging on the open sea

And on the highway of regret

The winds will change they'll blow wild and free

You ain't see nothing like me

_I wouldn't care to. _That's the only thought flowing through the blonde's head. Her body moves forward, trying to close the space. Her arms reach out _trying_ to find home. She'll never quite get close enough; it'll never be _enough_. She'll always want _more. _Selfish or greedy, there isn't anything else. Now, the pianistless than an inch awaybut Rachel steps away. She does a small turn moving around the instrument that was in the middle. The charged atmosphere turns playful and this time, Quinn _can _believe that she's chasing the singer around. She thinks that she's going to be doing so for a long time. 

I could make you happy make your dreams come true

Though there's nothing that I wouldn't do

I'll go to the ends of the earth for you

Finally Rachel stops.

To make you feel my love

Rachel turns and the sudden motion causes Quinn to walk into her. _So much for fast reflexes.._. The momentum sends then to the bench of the nearest stall. They laughing and praying that they don't fall. Well, Quinn is at any rate. She knows that if they do, she'll twist their bodies so that she's on the bottom. Fortunately, their feet move fast enough and Rachel back hits the bench.

To make you feel my love

Quinn presses against the petite girl. Her hands are from on the singer's hips. Rachel murmurs.

To make you feel my love

The diva is looking up from under her eyelashes. Her warm browns get darker and the pianist's mouth feels dry. Coyly, Rachel brushes a brown strand behind her ear. She tries not to focus on the way the blonde's hips shifted occasionally. She tried not to gasp at the electric signals running across her skin. And she tries not to stare into mysterious hazel greens. Her face, her hand and her body is heating up and it gets hard to breathe. Quinn contemplate her options. She knows what she wants to do, but there are _so _many people. Instead, she stays as still as she can, singing the last line because the diva had forgotten to. Her voice is husky and infused with something that Rachel _can_ name. She feels it in herself as well.

The flickering of the lanterns casts shadows over their faces and reflects off the surface of the lake. They're just one couple in many and there's a childlike wonder to the night. Quinn pauses, tugging the lettermen tighter around the diva's body. _It's_ partly because it was getting colder and it's _partly_ because she likes seeing the shorter girl wearing it.

Grinning like… _fools_, they lose themselves in the words and in the knowledge that this is _everything_.

_To make you feel my love… _

/

Happy. Happy. Happy. With a dash of sad for realism. Awaiting your thoughts.

I'm an inch away from just saying _screw it_ to university education. But alas that is not possible, Iest I end up jobless and homeless in the future. XD I will continue to update as soon as I can as it affords me with a break from my studies.


	15. Chapter 15 The Lucky Ones

**Chapter 15 – The Lucky Ones**

Hey guys, I'm back. Thanks for the kind words about university. I just had my massive midterms so fingers crossed! And who can forget Glee comes back soon. :D Ok first off.

To _Nightbrainzz, _I hope this is the first date continuance you were looking for. Music wise I seem to be obsessed with Jimmy Eat World's song Disintergration. I think you might like it.

To _bob, _I have to agree I like geeky Quinn. I think it's great that Ryan Murphy put her as an honor roll student.

To _Cali or Princess, _or Princess Cali XD which would you prefer? Now worries about the dorkiness. If it doesn't translate through my writing I am very much an idiot. Whether you eventually make an account or not, I still enjoy reading your reviews, so there's no pressure.

Song in this chapter is Brad Paisley's Make a mistake with me. I might have tweaked parts of it but I think the message fits.

/

Many relationships fail because people change. For some reason upon meeting one's significant other, _most_, make the mistake of faking; becoming someone else and _only_ what they think others want.

Rachel and Quinn are an exception.

For the blonde, she's undergone so many transformations: HBIC, Proactiv, and a nose job, that it's all been stripped away. She's only herself now. Whereas, the brunette? She used to pretend _a lot_: to be stronger, more talented and less neurotic than how she actually was. _She_ used to cry herself to sleep in her room, where the bullies couldn't see, lonely and _tired._

Somehow… _this year_, in their moments, the girls _become _the exception to the rule. Because when they fell, it was with full disclosure. They weren't anyone else. It's actually the only time that they had been this _honest_. They could have lied but they didn't. The pianist _knew_ when the diva was holding her enthusiasm back for fear of derision, for fear of being shutdown. The brunette _knew_ when there was something the softball player wasn't saying, because hey, it could hurt somebody.

Now that they're together, Rachel Berry _still_ wears argyle and plaid..._everyday. _The ex-cheerleader _still _thinks that it's an unflattering choice, grimacing at the possible combinations left. But, _not once_, does she push for a change. In fact, somewhere in her room is a collection of new sweaters and an argyle-wearing teddy to match. They're wrapped in birthday paper, waiting to be transferred to their new home. The blonde thinks that the singer will enjoy them.

And, it's not one-sided because Quinn Fabray _still _makes sarcastic and scathing remarks to those that grate on her nerves. The diva _still _thinks that some of it is unnecessary and that transgressions _should be_ forgiven. But, she has _never_ asked for a softer side or a forced smile. She just rolls her eyes, giving the taller girl a slight shove before apologizing to the target on her behalf. Afterwards, she would return to the blonde's side, threading their fingers together. It comes naturally that she doesn't even realize her actions till the pianist's hands squeeze hers. Then, _faintly_, she'll register that that pale hand was _always_ at the ready: expectant open and warm. It's impossible to admire everything about another person, but _it is_ possible that those are the aspects that one won't want to change, _ever_… When the girls hold each other's hand, steal a glance or even graze parts of their bodies, imperfections _become_ enthralling and annoyances fade to the background. All they care about is staying close and keeping that smile on, for _just_ a little longer.

Now that they're in _this _relationship_, and_, now that they've have _given in _to the feelings…they do_…_

So when Rachel demands that she'll formally meet the blonde's mother, it's accepted with resigned nod and no words. Internally, the pianist smirks, because, both of them saw it coming. Dubious that, the singer just happened to pick the day where softball practice and church groups didn't clash. In a large house, on Dudley Road, Judy at this moment was fluttering around in her kitchen trying to cook the perfect dinner for the girls.

/

The singer tugged her skirt and jumper for the fifth time. She was uncharacteristically nervous. The earlier ten minutes was spent staring at tall mahogany double doors with a dry throat. The diva liked Judy the first time they'd met, but things had changed. She questions whether the avid churchgoer would be equally as receptive, considering now, she dating her _daughter_. Rachel briefly realizes that she's never cared as much in the past… _with Finn_. And automatically, her stance drops. Not for the first time, she's reminded that _this _is _different. _She'll never_ be_ ready, but maybe, she _doesn't_ want to be. The brunette lifts her hand up, to eyelevel. Her features scrunch at the barely noticeable tremble. She closes her eyes, breathing deep. Yeah, she doesn't_ ever _want to be…

Inside, Quinn runs her fingers through her short hair, taking a glance from the window. Her attention was peaked the moment Hiram Berry dropped his daughter off. The short father tried to insist on staying to greet the Fabrays but the singer shook her head furiously, wanting to do this herself. The blonde sighed watching the war of stubbornness unfold. Eventually, the glasses wearing man left the singer to her devices. Every now and then, the pianist would look outside to check the progress. Her head would tilt in amusement and understanding _as_ confusion, worry and _finally _determination would cross the diva's features. The ex-cheerleader remembers the emotions, when it had been _her_ outside the Berry home. Coach Sylvester had seemed like a soft plush toy, compared to the nerves of being formally introduced to Rachel's parents.

So Quinn waits. She waits for the moment when the girl by the entrance would realize that she _was _Rachel Barbra Berry and that this, was nothing. It was just another step, another hurdle taken to reach the pianist and cement this relationship.

When the singer_ does_, it's quite obvious. Her shoulders square off and she holds her head high, facial features arranged in a determined precision. It causes something in the blonde to shudder, galvanizing her limbs into action. She has to clamp down to prevent an involuntary whimper, as a strange heat strikes, before slowly receding. Quinn Fabray isn't confused; she knows that this _is_ attraction. But she also _knows _that now, _she's_ allowed to act on it.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

A slight smile tugs her lips as she goes to the door.

/

However, the softball player isn't fast enough because, as eager as she is to see her girlfriend, her mother seems more so. Judy makes it from the kitchen to the door, one step speedier. In the dust, she leaves an awkwardly entertained Quinn behind. Nevertheless, the mother appears to brighten at the sight of the diva. Before Rachel can say anything, she's engulfed in a warm firm hug that pushes the air from her lungs. The body against her seems so familiar but different. Still it's more than enough, almost automatically she smiles, returning the gesture. All the while, her head turns to find someone. If possible brown eyes become _even_ warmer upon the girl casually leaning against the staircase railings. Her sight traces every inch of that smooth marble face lingering on the lightness of the blonde's expression. Immediately, the singer's world becomes easier. Everything just takes less effort. Rachel can acknowledge that it might take forever for her body to stop reacting instinctively and going haywire in nearness to Quinn. The girls are wearing matching blushes but the ex-cheerleader's pale skin places her in a disadvantage and for once, there's no urge to hide it.

Judy _does_ eventually release the brunette. In her newly bought apron, she's radiant as she claps happily. All the age and weariness caused by years of alcohol _just _fades _away. _Her daughter has to blink back the moisture that threatens her clear hazel-greens. Elation floods her being, leading to a _good _pressure in her chest. She's so _relieved. _It's been nearly a decade, but she finally sees the _mom _that she remembers. For a second Quinn thinks that euphoria might be tangible because she was choking in it. She feels _so _strongly now. Looking at the youthful joy in her mother, it's just one more thing that the she's grateful to the singer for. The softball player thanks _all_ the higher powers for giving her this, because… somehow… Rachel was healing every hurt and _every old crack._ She's not even trying, she's just there and it _helps_, more than she realizes.

"Hello Rachel. It's good to see you again. I was saying to Quinnie, just the other day, that we should all sit down and have a get-together now that you're dating."

Judy clasps the singer's hand as she warmly greets her. There's a bit of flour on her cheek and her soft blonde hair is tied into a messy bun. Even with time, she's still beautiful beyond words. Rachel doesn't have to wonder to know that Quinn would be the same. Still, her appearance isn't what causes the diva to be taken aback. The brunette is more than a little surprised by the accepting and slightly oblivious nature with which the older woman broaches the issue. As if it was normal… as if it _wasn't_ a sin… _especially,_ in the eyes of Lima.

Seeing the brunette's blank expression, the mother turns to her daughter. A hesitant discomfort mars her features. She wants so bad to go about this the right way, because she _was _completely all right with this. Judy can handle anything that lets Quinn drop her guard and _feel. _That older woman believes that anyone that has the ability to make her daughter smile, _really actually smile _after all these years, can't be wrong. The softball player is open, raw and so very real. _Finally. _Hence… to Judy, Rachel Berry is ok, great even and most certainly welcome. _She just_ needs the younger blonde to _know._

"It's still tradition for parents to meet their daughter's girlfriends, right?"

Judy asked perplexedly to bridge the gap. Quinn shrugs, raising an eyebrow. Why did everyone expect her to be the expert? She never had inklings with other girls before. She never really had _anything_ with _anyone_ before. Everything in the now reminds her of that. Somehow, the singer had bypassed every defense she had, waving brilliantly each time. The ex-cheerleader sighs, leaning her body slightly and angling her head to look at the diva. Quinn is content despite the distance because proximity isn't always necessary. Memories, thoughts and those brown eyes were with her everywhere; it's like a soft caress.

After a moment, Rachel seems to return, catching the tail end of the question. She straightens, mentally waking herself up.

"Yes, Ms Fabray. That is absolutely still true. I hope you haven't gone through too much trouble."

This time, the pianist had to smirk, watching as Judy Fabray became charmed by her girlfriend. The mother melts under the polite address and sincere expression. She never stood a chance. For the first time she understands why Quinn couldn't ignore this _one_ girl. She waves away the comment.

"Nonsense dear. No such thing. I've always wanted to test out that cookbook and today seems like the perfect opportunity."

Phiiiishhhhhhhhhhh.

The sound of pressurized steam escaping makes it to the hallway. The mother is unaware as she leads the brunette to the living room. And, her daughter's eyes roll. There's no disbelief because this was entirely expected. Fabray women just weren't meant to be in the kitchen, not _even _to make bacon as they had discovered after one very charred breakfast morning. The ex-cheerleader's arm shot out, grabbing the end of Judy's apron.

"Mom! Cooking. You insisting. Kitchen. Remember?"

By now, the noise has changed into a sharp whistle. The older woman's eyes widened as a sheepish look appeared on her face. Immediately, she drops the singer's hand and rushes off, but not before yelling out.

"And Rachel? No more Ms Fabray. It's Judy, unless you break Quinnie's heart. Of course, then it's Ms Fabray again."

There's a silence and Rachel lets the warning sink in. She's happy, because as frightening as the notion is, Judy really does care for her daughter. And the brunette would never hurt her. Slowly, she turns around marveling the room. Upon the end, she sees Quinn standing in the archway. It occurs to the shorter girl that the blonde looks like she belongs in this perfect regal home. She doesn't get a lot of time to ponder it, as the pianist shoves of the doorjamb. Rachel's air supply thins. She swears that the ex-captain is actually _slinking_ towards her, with a dangerous sway of the hip. Close. Closer. _There. _

Quinn's fingers have a loose grip on the diva's waist, tugging ever so lightly, bringing the petite figure into her body. The singer stumbles a bit on the first step. Her clumsiness caused by her inability to look away from mysteriously dark hazel greens. Instead, she resists slightly causing the blonde to shake her head softly in reprimand. Quinn makes a soft clicking sound with her tongue, pulling a bit harder on those soft hips. In response, Rachel feels her ears redden as she thinks about other things that that tongue could be, _should be,_ doing. This time the movement is pure grace. Like that, she becomes ensconced in the pianist's arms, pushing their lips together. Instinctively, her mouth parts for the pianist's greedy tongue. It seemed that the ex-cheerleader was coordinated in everything, fingers, legs and _especially_ the tongue_. _Shudder. Gasp. Shiver. Quinn tightens her hold because the singer's small movements are infuriating. It makes her want _more. _It makes her _lose_ control, as fronts are pressed against each other. Any movement would cause vibrations to go through their clothes _into _their bodies.

Alarmingly, Rachel has an absence of thought as her hands grip Quinn's forearms for support. The pianist's pink muscle was mapping every hollow and crevice in her mouth, brushing slowly and with purpose against the top palette. An exhilarating current flows through the singer ending at the belly. Both girls are flushed, itchy in their clothes and missing the importance of oxygen. Gradually, they slow down. The ex-cheerleader breaks apart, leaning against the wall behind the brunette. She's breathing large and deep, feeling restless and immediately missing the contact. Exercising self-control, she tries to ignore the heaving chest opposite her, _in the corner of her vision_. A grin appears. Beside her, the diva's dark locks are wild and her lips are slightly swollen. _Sexy. _Rachel's small lithe frame shudders with each inhale. Her clenched fists tell the blonde that she's not the only one struggling with pause from the activity. Trembles and bursts of aftershocks tell them _both _that they'd gone somewhere new this time, making a foray into _need and lust_.

"Thank god. I was beginning to think that you had abandoned me for my mother."

Quinn expels amusedly. Rachel turns to face the blonde, stepping closer causing the taller girl's breath to hitch. Brown eyes hold greens. A lingering kiss is pressed on the softball player's cheek. It's supposed to be simple but it isn't. The diva lips first land on the corner of her girlfriend's mouth, dragging diagonally upwards to the cheekbone before applying a sliver of pressure. She had the full intention to pull back but with this _lack _of distance she can smell the understated scent of lilac shampoo and a crisp freshness that is distinctly _Quinn. _Her intention is then delayed by her own closed eyes and breathing. When lungs are filled, the diva pulls back with glittering eyes. The pianist is motionless, with coiled energy and an intense expression. Rachel remembers their conversation.

"Well she _is_ very charming Quinn…"

The brunette counters. Her body doing a shy twist as her hands clasp in front. She was the picture of so called innocence. There's a second as the blonde takes a step back, crossing her arms, analyzing the new picture. Rachel wears a subtle confidence that lets her _do things_ like control her curves, teasingly. And _say things_ like; _come here,_ in a rich nuanced tone. The girls grin, holding their positions. The moment is interrupted by loud clangs and irritated groaning from the kitchen. Judy's outbursts filter in with the noise coming from the oven beeper, as the smell of burnt vegetables fill the air. Shocked, the diva moves to help. She's stopped by Quinn's pale hand on her arm. The pianist makes a gesture telling her to relax. She does.

"You find _that _charming?"

Comes the amused question. The softball player looks in the direction of the kitchen, cringing at the sound of broken dishes. That couldn't be good. There's a gap where everything seems frozen. The ex-cheerleader actually begins to worry over the lack of response and the sudden silence emanating from the cooking area. But, slowly Rachel moves back towards Quinn and leans forward. Once again, the taller girl's higher order thinking becomes compromised as her hand craves tan skin. Mirthful brown eyes trail her features. The singer whispers in her ear.

"I find your mother charismatic and riveting, but _only because _I see so much of you in her."

With that Rachel steps back, nodding softly. Her hand grazes bare pale arms, leaving the blonde where she stood. Quinn can count the amount of times in her life where she's felt secure, safe and loved on one hand. But all of it gets erased and replaced by the words of the brunette. Rachel's actions elevate the pianist above her station as the ex-cheerleader, the HBIC and the pretty face. She's finally able to accept that her role is significant. She figures out that her life won't be measured by popularity or wealth. No. Hers will be determined by the state of the diva, several years from now. As long as the singer is smiling, as long as she achieves all that she should and as long as she's never _lonely._ Quinn will win. She's certainly competitive enough to make it so.

/

Exploring the rest of the living room, high ceilings and ornate carpentry takes Rachel's breath away. Among all the rich colors and sophisticated furnishings, a line of trophies catches her eye. The cheap plastic figurines are a stark contrast to the rest of the home, nevertheless proudly positioned on mantles and side tables. The brunette casts a look back to her girlfriend. Quinn shrugs nonchalantly, just watching. She's got nothing to hide, not anymore. Ducking her head adorably, the singer reads the various inscriptions. Outstanding achievement in athletics, first place 200m sprints, honorable mention in dance and so on. It's obvious that the taller girl is talented and by all these awards, _flawless_ even in the eyes of critics. As the list continues, the biggest difference is that the ex-cheerleader is perfect _to the diva_, for no other reason but the fact that she's really _not_. Quinn has troubles too. The ex-captain makes mistakes in her calculations, in her batting and in her singing. And, Rachel loves calming her down when she does.

At the end of the first line, there's a set of older, worn and barely held together commendations in the background. Curiosity wins out and the brunette maneuvers between tea tables to get a closer look. The first has the treble symbol, the second metronome and the third a piano. Rachel pauses. Reverently she holds one in the light. They might be timeworn but the clean chrome of the nameplate shows that it is well kept, and recently polished. In framed documents on the back wall, there are accreditations for the various levels of piano playing. There are ten certificates, one for each year. Her fingers lightly skim and glide over each one. She's marveling in the print, marveling in the talent it must have taken to get this far. If possible, her respect and feelings seem to deepen taking root into every dimension of her mind. Music was their medium. And Quinn shuts her eyes. It feels as if those mere touches were being made on her skin, goosebumps rising along her flesh. The softball player notices the awe and pride in the brunette's expression and it _embarrasses_ her because this was more than congratulation. There's a childlike wonder with which the diva examines everything and suddenly the pianist just wants to sit down and compose. She wants to write any and all the songs that Rachel Berry would like to hear and _sing._

But, happiness turns bitter as times wears on. The singer has finished reading and now her attention is drawn to a series of pictures. Scattered around are snapshots of Quinn, from childhood to teenage playing the beautiful instrument. The taller girl's ageing and maturation is observable, chronicling a life that the singer hadn't known about. She looks _so_ happy. In the table's center, there's one of a very young blonde playing in a conservatorium like stage. She has the brightest and most passionate stance Rachel thinks she's ever seen. Finger's bent perfectly over piano keys. There's a _life _here, in these pictures, right in front of diva. Sadness stabs her. She had missed it. She hadn't the inclination to_ find out_. She remembers what she had said in glee. _I'm rather certain that I already understand everything about Quinn. _How could she? When she hadn't realized anything about _this._ Moisture gathers around her eyes and she turns to the wall, afraid to glance at the softball player.

Quinn. Just. _Watches._ The change in the atmosphere was palpable and for once, she didn't understand. She's powerless because she's just had to watch her greatest gift impress and then _hurt _the girl she cared about. Crippling and dulling the shine in those brown orbs. _Why?_

"Rachel…Are you – what's wrong?"

The brunette head whirls around. Her eyes are wet, fiery and only slightly angry. The ire isn't directed at the blonde but at herself. In her hand is the picture, the ex-cheerleader at her first grading performance. Rachel's beautiful and emotive voice is despondent. It causes an ache to hear.

"Quinn, you knew me. Who I was and what I felt. You even knew the things that I thought only my fathers would care about. But…I didn't really know you, did I?"

The pianist's forehead creases in surprise and concern. Where did this come from? She hates the self-loathing in the diva's expression. It didn't belong. However she doesn't say a thing, waiting for an explanation. Rachel looks grateful for the quiet and the room to continue.

"Recitals, competitions and school performances, this was, _is _such a _big_ part of you."

The brunette gestures around in the alcove of musical achievements. Her next words are choked. And all Quinn can think is that tremors don't _belong _in the singer's voice. She desperately wants it gone.

"I didn't find out about any of this until Santana blurted it out in glee. What does that make me? I couldn't _see _or maybe I didn't care. I don't _know_, Quinn."

Silence. Rachel returns her attention to the pictures and awards. She might be punishing herself, but she thinks that she deserves it. A sad smile crawls onto her face at a 5-6 year old Quinn in a pink floral dress, gap in her teeth and sitting on a piano stool. On the other side of the room, hazel green eyes soften and deceivingly delicate shoulders drop. Recognition dawns and it's as if shaded lenses are removed. The softball player thinks that sometimes, Rachel might feel_ too much_. But then again, it shows how much she cares. And it drives the ex-captain to be the same, to be _better, for her. _The pianist's voice is firm but gentle. She makes the decision to let Rachel _in_, to let the singer a little deeper into her world.

"That's not true."

Rachel looks up, blank and tired.

"What?"

Quinn tilts her head, letting her hand touch and brush along various surfaces of the room. With each word she's crossing the room slowly and unthreateningly. She's open. When Rachel tenses, the blonde pauses. The invisible strings controlling the divas micro expressions, push and pull, controlling the ex-cheerleader. Green eyes hold browns.

"When you met me, you saw everything that I was… at the time."

The singer scoffs. She thinks that she doesn't need a useless platitude, least of all from Quinn. But, it _isn't_ a lie. The blonde takes a step forward in annoyance from the dismissal. She's about to take another however at the last minute she stops. The diva's tightening of her jaw and clenching of her teeth suggests that she's not ready to be pushed. She's not even close to being convinced. So the ex-Cheerio stays put. She runs her hand through her blonde strands.

"Rachel, I stopped playing the day I transferred to Lima. Between a new school, honor roll and Cheerios I just didn't have the time. I also didn't have any reason to."

The pianist shrugs taking the long way around the tables and chairs. Either way she'd end up where the diva was, but she was going to give her some time before getting there. Along the path, Quinn straightens out some knickknacks and couch cushions. The singer loses some of her steam at the information. There was a large part of her that wasn't surprised. What she was feeling, it wasn't the relief that came from discovering the truth but rather proving or reaffirming it. Rachel _thinks_ that she might be a horrible person for feeling this way. However, looking at the confident softball player, she doesn't believeit. There's nothing, no accusation nor pointedness in those green eyes that suggest suspicions of wickedness. Instead, Quinn eventually takes the trophy off the diva's hand, meaningfully wrapping and brushing their hands together. The brunette has to suppress a gasp. The feather light touch brings a dash of reality back to the frozen moment. The blonde sighed placing it to the side. She stares at the engraving for a second, before turning back to her girlfriend. There's a meter gap between them.

"A technically brilliant musician, however her notes lack in any real substance. That was my instructor's review after 9 years. He thought that I couldn't give any part of myself to the music…"

She pauses. Rachel looks up in disbelief, meeting the gaze. And… Quinn doesn't seem defensive. She's accepting without being resigned. It's just a fact of the past because now, she has everything with her music. Years of lessons might have trained her to control her movements perfectly on white and black keys but it's the short girl in front of her that taught her how to _live, _animating her rusty capacity to feel. The entirety of the blonde is immersed in the words she speaks, the tones she plays and actions she makes. So, she's _good. _Closing her eyes, this is exactly where she wants to be. Staring at the emotive singer, _this_ is the _only _person she wants to be _with._

"Santana, only knew because she used to go to the same teacher as me, outside of town, between Bellevue and Lima."

Quinn doesn't move. Rachel breathes shakily. It occurs to her that with each explanation and each whispered admittance she was being passed fragments of the blonde to make or break. By this point her mind is a cluttered mess as information flowed through from all directions. The softball player seems to understand. Leaning back she half whispers, husky and low.

"This, the piano, the song-writing, it didn't happen again until Nationals."

Quietly, the taller girl takes a step forward. She brings the small tan hand in hers. Unspoken words tell the brunette _look at me _and she does. A slight smile appears on the blonde's pale features. Without permission, the diva's frame relaxes. Quinn's words are powerful without being harsh.

"Rachel, you _do_ know me and you _did_ see everything I was. Back then, it just wasn't much."

Thoughts kind of disappear. The singer's self-loathing disintegrates under the force of the statement and the belief in the voice. She takes her hands from the ex-cheerleader's. The right, trails across Quinn's elegant neck playing with the short baby hairs. The left caresses the pianist's cheek. In one step they're in an embrace that proposes a trust,_ an ever after_. The diva's mind pours over the bits of a damaged heart that she had been given. Rachel thinks that she'll take those fragments and place it safely in a protective box. It would be guarded by her feelings, desire and stubbornness. And maybe over the days, weeks or months, she could eventually watch it get sewn back together. The pieces could become whole, _loving her_.

Rachel hopes that that's the case, but Quinn already knows…

A choke of relief escapes the singer. A hummed song of comfort is heard from the blonde. And a loud shout sounds from the kitchen.

"Girls dinner!"

Judy's head pops out from the oven area. She's only looks slightly ridiculous as a result of the powdery white flour mixed into her hair and the dark wine red sauce smeared across her cheek. When she sees the closeness with which girls are standing and the complete lack of response to her yell, she can only smirk. To be so lost and so captivated by another person, most people don't actually find that. Instead, they settle. So, for not one, but two couples at the young age of 18, in _Lima_; it's a small miracle. Quinn and Rachel. Brittany and Santana. Ms Fabray isn't blind enough to ignore that bond. All four girls are so in tune with their significant other that she's convinced that their problems will have nothing to do with communication but everything to do with loving _too much. _The mother smiles when Rachel buries her face into her daughter's shoulder and the subtle manner by which her fists clench tighter on Quinn's blue cardigan. There's an implicit belief that the taller girl will offer sanctuary. However, she actually feels tears coming when the pianist turns her body slightly to accommodate the brunette. It's obvious that it's less comfortable for her to be in the new position but you can't tell by the look on her face. She looks protective and content, _happy in the moment. _Judy can't touch that. But then again, she also can't let her hours over the oven and hot stove to be for nothing. She had even burned index finger on the metal plate. The girls would eat first. With reluctance, she walks over and touches both their shoulders. 

"Girls, time to eat."

As they pull apart and a flush of embarrassment appears over Rachel's features. She's looks as if she's about to shrink into herself but Quinn doesn't let her. Almost determinedly, she looks behind, holding out her hand. Green eyes seem to burn and the singer acquiesces, she always will with this girl. Sharing a nod, the ex-cheerleader leads them to the dining area. It looks beautiful. China plates set nicely with knives, spoons and forks. From left to right, there is a bowl of Greek salad, a basket of square-cut garlic toasts and lightly seasoned mushroom risotto. Judy uses her hip to move her daughter out of the way as she placed a metal lid covered plate in the center. Curious green and brown eyes follow her movements. The mother dusts her hands before lifting the metal covering with a flourish.

Three things happen. Rachel's eyes widen, a gasp escapes and her hand goes to her mouth. Quinn on the other hand is frozen. In front of her is a plate of char-grilled salmon with mustard cream sauce and she _torn. _Part of her salivates because not only did it look edible but also it smelled delectable. A groan builds. She has to hand it to her mother, considering normally, they were both cooking illiterate. However the other larger part that controls _all_ her actions, winces. This version of herself, who cares so deeply for the diva, stiffens and starts to worry, causing her heart to beat unpleasantly faster. Her voice comes out confused.

"Mom, that's fish. Rachel is a vegan."

The words appear to go over the older woman's head. Unbothered, her proud smile pasted on. Rachel at this point temporarily forgets the fact that an innocent animal had been slaughtered for her benefit, instead tilting her head curiously in the mother's direction. Nobody speaks and finally Judy starts to wonder. Her joy dims minutely as puzzlement begins to fill her mind. Grabbing her cookbook she begins to flip rapidly through the pages all the while asking the question.

"Don't vegans eat fish? I mean I talked to Carina's family. Quinnie, they're vegetarian and they eat fish. Is it not the same thing?"

An ungraceful choke erupts and the ex-cheerleader looks to her mother in disbelief. Judy is clueless as her gaze flickers between the two girls. Amused, Rachel shakes her head softly. The moment seems too strange for words. The pianist has her mouth slightly open. Her computing process disengaged. A retort slides out without thought, incredulous.

"Carina's family also has steak every Sunday!"

Pause. The metal lid drops from Judy's hand and by the far from thrilled expression of her daughter, realization dawns. Simultaneously both Fabrays bring a palm to their face and groan.

"Oh god, Rachel I am so sorry."

"No. It's not your fault Judy. You didn't know. Please, don't blame yourself. Most families in Lima aren't vegan. Really it's ok."

The brunette automatically responds. But the blondes continue to hold their contrite expressions, muttering to themselves. Rachel thinks she sees the resemblance. Trying to stop the self berating before it get to far, she brings Quinn and her conjoined hands to her lips. The moment contact is made; the pianist's head whips to look at the singer. She shivers at the way the soft touch placed a sliver of pressure over her knuckles. _Relax. _That's the shorter girl's command and she obeys. Her tension starts to dissipate. Upon this, the diva leaves her and goes to Judy. Rachel has trouble wiping the beam off her face because this woman had cared so much that she had spent her entire day making an extravagant dish, when evidently it didn't come easily. The mother opens her mouth.

"Rachel I – "

"Judy! It's all right. There's nothing to apologize for. The meal looks delicious and it's unfortunate that I can't eat it. Why don't you wrap it up and put it in the fridge for tomorrow? Maybe we can still make something with what you have left."

The singer speaks. In her natural state, she puts a stop to any rebuttal and takes charge of the situation. Jumping to attention, Quinn starts the process. She can't stop the way her body hums excitedly at the authoritative tone. The mother bows her head, grateful. The way her daughter's girlfriend checks her cupboards and pantry for ingredients is disarmingly picture-perfect. There's a crinkle to her brow as she reads the nutritional information before carefully making the decision. Minutes later she would be interrupted by a playful Quinn who takes the container out of her hands and out of reach, demanding a kiss for toll. Eyes sparkle under the overhead lights. It seems that Rachel must be a skilled negotiator because the softball player not only hands her the kidnapped object but helps her chop the mushrooms. She only gets a whispered conversation and a chaste kiss on the cheek as a reward, but the grin is permanent.

Judy doesn't know her place, standing awkwardly. Not for long though. The brunette somehow knows to turn around, waving the mother over.

"Come on Judy, let's do this together. I'm going to need you the make the sauce."

/

The crescent moon shines brightly in the night sky, looking down at the residents of the world. In the town of Lima it watches three women, cooking, joking and having fun. The two that can't cook are led by an extraordinary confident brunette. While they wait for the timer, they dance around to radio music and sing into their wooden spoons and spatulas, deliberately off key. With childlike glee, one of them would try to sneak a taste before the meal was done without the others noticing. If they were caught, a small chase would ensue. The enforcer would wear an exaggerated frown and giggle as she ran after her target. Squeals would erupt upon capture. There's nothing but bright expressions and laughter.

The world would be envious, if they only knew.

/

Days later, the girls are sitting close together in the cafeteria. Hands held on the table, where everyone can see. They don't mind, not when their hearts race and breaths still hitch upon a smile or any movement. They're playing their version of twenty questions where one of them would try to catch the other out by asking an obscure question. More often than not they're surprised by the precision in the correct answer given. Feelings become _deeper._ It's Rachel's turn now. However before a sound comes out, an angry Santana drops onto the seat opposite the girls. The Latina grunts as she rips her lunch open, shoving the chicken burger into her mouth.

Rachel stared wide-eyed. She's not quite sure if she's ever going to get used to the Latina's mood swings. She's also not sure if she's ever talked to the girl without her better half, the tall dancer. Quinn just sighs facing her friend. She doesn't say anything but Santana gets the message. The volatile ex-cheerleader lets out what the blonde is sure is a muffled expletive as she nods to the right-wing door. Paces away, Brittany stands talking to Billy, the new sandy blonde hockey-player. The testosterone-charged boy glowers lecherously at her athletic form. There's nothing to do as Quinn settles sympathetically in her chair. It might be innocent for the dancer but it doesn't matter. The very thought will bother Santana like nothing else.

Five minutes. Ten minutes. Even twenty minutes go by and Brittany still hasn't made her way to their table. She is animated as she discusses what Rachel is sure must be duck-related, based from the confused look of the muscular boy. By this point, the burger that Santana had been gnawing on had all but disappeared. The Latina holds her snack pack up into the light. Then she glances behind. Her fists clench. She had an undeniable rage towards the dessert. She didn't even like the taste and she _never_ ate it. No, it was always packed for Brittany. Santana always felt lighter than air when lights would appear in blue eyes. It's petulant but when she sees any sort of positivity directed to someone else, she feels sick to her stomach. Quinn starts to lean forward. She doesn't get far because the Latina throws the pudding at her, jumping out of her seat. Reflexively, the ex-captain catches the projectile, moving it back down to the table. Rachel and the blonde watch Santana storm out, _not so accidentally _shoving Billy to the ground in her way.

"Talk to her."

The singer whispered. She knows that if the pianist doesn't, it'll eat away at her. Quinn doesn't say anything, turning the snack pack around sadly. She's grateful for the light squeeze of her hand. The ex-captain is functioning _because _of the peace that Rachel's love brings. Santana isn't different and she's not immune to loneliness. But, ignoring it comes so naturally. The diva uses one hand to guide the softball-player's face to hers. She whispers intently, because she won't let her girlfriend make the mistake, she's not willing to let her make a regret.

"I won't pretend to understand yours and Santana's friendship but I find it hard to believe that you'd let her go through this alone. If you care as much as I _know_ you do then… talk to her, Quinn."

Swallowing, the blonde nods, leaning in.

"Thank you."

/

Santana stands on the pitching mound with a basket of softballs to her side.

Bang.

It hits the metal mesh with scary force. The Latina takes a deep breath. Images of Brittany and Billy flash in and out. She growls, lifting another. Aim. Throw. When she doesn't hear the expected noise she looks up to see Quinn with the ball and her mitt. The ex-captain passes the ball back.

"Wow, Berry's just got you so tightly wound around her finger, hasn't she? Whipped doesn't even exist in the dictionary for you anymore."

Santana snickers. It lacks the bite that would normally be there. Her rich eyes seem empty as she stares at the object in her hand. She doesn't want to talk about it. But, she's also sure that it'll be a cold day in hell before her friend lets that happen. So, she just propels the ball as hard as she can down the field. The wind works against her, blowing her hair frantically. She has to raise her voice to yell.

"Just because things ended well for you don't mean that it'll be the same for the rest of us, Q."

Quinn catches the pitch, barely. The force almost causes her to stumble. She shakes her head disappointedly.

"Well why not Santana? I mean she's exactly what you want, what you've _always_ wanted."

If Quinn's honest she'll admit that she's never completely understood why her friend had so many issues. Since their first meeting, the ex-captain has always rooted for the pair. They're so badly in love that it had convinced her in her darkest hours that perhaps everyone had that _one other person_. Contrary to whatever McKinley's populations thinks, Brittany only ever _sees_ Santana even amongst the footballers and occasional cheerleaders. The Latina blood flows thickly, drumming a steady beat in her ears. She thinks about contesting the point but the denial feels wrong. Instead, she drops the ball collapsing on the green grass. She speaks.

"It's not the same. Things just work out for you. You're like this, _perfect Barbie_ that can do no wrong. I – I'll screw up."

The pianist ignores the name, moving to sit beside her friend. She looks to the sky. Staring at Santana when she is threatened is one of those phenomenally bad ideas. You don't look a bear in the eye and her friend was far worse than any woodland animal. It would be a death wish waiting to happen.

"Ok, Santana, let's break this down. This school means nothing. We'll be graduating soon, and you won't ever see half these people ever again. You don't have to worry about my mom at church because she's practically waving the rainbow flag. Brittany's family already thinks that you're together. And, your parents? They _love _Brittany and they love you."

Quinn finally looks down. She shakes her friend.

"In your family, that's unconditional."

The words are final and true. Santana swallows because she knows that Quinn's father's affection wasn't. She knows that she's luckier than most. She has a good family life, her parents are well off and she has the opportunity to spend everyday with the girl that shows her another life. One, that's caring, relaxed and _not angry, _it's _her_ paradise_._ Brittany. She tries to imagine a multitude of futures without her. In none of them is she ever happy. Her hands end up covering around her face, trying to rub the doubt away.

"I'm being a wimp, aren't I?"

Quinn doesn't miss a beat.

"Yeah, but she loves you anyway. The fact that she doesn't mind waiting doesn't mean that she should."

Santana raises her eyebrow.

"You know I think that's the same advice she gave to Berry."

The knowledge doesn't surprise either girl. They both stare at the clouds. The pianist plucks a length of grass making a small slit in the side. When she blows it make a light tone. Afterwards, she'll confess what they both already believe.

"Brittany is the smartest person we know."

It takes a while before words are once again raised. Unlike most, they seem to enjoy the quiet. They understand things better that way. However there is a time to speak. Quinn needs to get this out. Santana can't afford to keep doing this. It's a well-kept secret but she's actually not strong enough.

"Remember how before I transferred to McKinley, I asked you why you came so rarely to piano lessons?"

"What about it?"

Santana barks. Quinn doesn't balk at the tone. It's calmer than she expects.

"Do you remember your answer?"

The question hangs in the air. Santana's expression twitch and her eyes glaze over. The memory returns to mind. Still, she hears it when her captain's voice recites. Quinn looks to her friend. Each word weighted.

"You told me that you had something better waiting for you in Lima... You told me that there's nothing that you would ever pick before your best friend, Brittany."

The Latina shuts her eyes. She _does _recall. She still wants to believe that that hasn't changed because her feelings have only gotten stronger. There's another moment where the girls just sit there. Eventually, Santana will dust her jeans off. She'll offhandedly say.

"Thanks Q. Now you better not lag behind in practice again. I ain't covering your ass with Sue. Hell, I'll make you take shots to the head myself if you fumble a catch again."

It's a hollow threat because Quinn _neve_r fumbles.

/

Later that day, in their free period, Quinn has a blindfold over the singer's eyes. She leads her to the auditorium stage, where there is a picnic basket with a small assortment of sliced fruits. She makes sure _so carefully_ that the brunette has no chances of tripping, that Rachel actually gets impatient at some points. In the corridor before, the diva had _actually _tried to walk first, only to go into a stocky freshman. Thankfully, fewer protests happen after that and the blonde kisses the injury better. It's the only way the singer will move, bringing a smile to pale features as the pianist shakes her head.

When the silk scarf is removed they're on the big stage. Shockingly the first thing the diva notices is not the performance arena or the rows of audience chairs. Her vision fixates on the blonde, tracing over the image that has probably already been etched into her mind that morning. There's a cream flower embroidered knee length sundress and a light blue cardigan. There's shining green eyes and a quirked brow. And it doesn't matter that she's seen it already, because she wants it in her memories forever. The image in her mind can only get clearer. It's a while but afterwards, she realizes the location, gasping at the set-up. The brunette falls to her knees fingering the checkered blanket. It's a delightful gesture but also strange and unexpected. Curiously, she looks to Quinn.

The blonde carefully seats herself before explaining.

"You haven't been here…since… since the day I watched you run away."

Letting the comment hang, Quinn gathers some fruit. Speechless, Rachel bites the inside of her lip, glancing around. She hadn't thought anybody had noticed. She also should have known better. Her only excuse was that the auditorium didn't make her feel good anymore. After the ex-cheerleader's rejection, the brunette had come back to express her sadness but each word brought back a scene where the blonde had claimed that she couldn't, _wouldn't_ do this. It became torture to even try, so she didn't. She learned to substitute the choir room for the auditorium. Today, _this_ afternoon, the lighting is screened and angled so that the stage was illuminated but not glaring, primed for a performance.

When she turns back, Quinn will be sitting on the piano stool, fingers poised and waiting. She'll wear a warm but knowing gaze as she speaks.

"I thought you deserved some happy memories here..."

Singing comes last because Rachel throws herself into the blonde's arms, pressing their lips together. A brilliant glow of joy lights up her face.

/

The bell rings, signaling the end of the period. The girls shift from their position. Rachel was wrapped in Quinn's arms. Sometime during, they had moved from the stage to the cushioned chairs of the first rows. They're draped across the itchy material staring at the spotlights. It is a different perspective. The blonde takes a breath, basking for a while longer before whispering into her girlfriend's ear.

"I'm sorry Rachel, but now you have to go. Santana is meeting me here in ten minutes. We have to finish something for Brittany."

Quinn honestly has no idea how the effort was going to turn out, but when her fiery friend was determined… She's just relieved that Santana was trying before the dancer became out of reach. Her mind reviews back to her conversation with her mother, the pianist agrees if she didn't give in then she would have crippled herself by watching Rachel give her trust and her feelings to someone else. Both Brittany and the singer were too wonderful a being, to stay alone. Sooner or later their natural desire to be wanted and cared about, would have overridden their readiness to wait for girls that would never acknowledge them. Once again, the ex-captain is thankful that she didn't make the decision for purgatory. Warm brown eyes drive her, turning into constant reminders of a possible happy ending. The diva plays with the blonde's fingers, trying to bring her back. Quinn thinks too much.

"Can't I stay? You can both benefit from my musical expertise."

Pause. The singer's brow furrows as she turns her words around in her head. She remembers just how talented the blonde is.

"Ok, well maybe not in the composition part, you're already excellent at that but I can – "

"No Rachel, you can't."

She's interrupted. She can also feel the shaking of a head behind her. The softball player gently lifts the brunette up to her feet. Quinn groans as she gives her muscles a stretch. It doesn't go unnoticed when the brunette's eyes linger over her figure. Rachel's eyes seem slightly glazed and the ex-cheerleader almost snorts in amusement. She takes one of the diva's hands and places a kiss on the soft skin of her palm.

"If Santana sees you here she'll shut down. Please Rachel, just keep Brittany busy for a while."

The singer doesn't quite respond. She stands still and her bottom lip parts. She seems to wear a sense of awe.

"You just said no to me, Quinn."

Looking up, the pianist tilts her head.

"This relationship won't work if it's always yes, Rachel."

The diva's response to the dry statement is delayed. However, very slowly, full lips will curve into a smile. The gesture might not illuminate the world, but it is all Quinn can focus on. Other parts of life seem dull in comparison. Rachel touches her own hand to her face in excitement and mild surprise. The happiness is new to her too. _No_. It's a two-letter word that has profound effect on the diva's understanding of herself and this relationship. She discovers something that she didn't think was imaginable.

"I know...It's just that… I don't mind…"

/

Apparently, it's all in a day's work. Santana stands in a nearly empty choir room, a sheet of lyrics in hand. In her usual chair, Brittany sits. Curiosity and kindness soak her features. The Latina suddenly feels stronger. And, Rachel moves from the dancer's side going past the fiery ex-cheerleader. The diva gives the girl a pat on her shoulder on her way towards Quinn. When she gets there, they share the piano stool and a communicative smile. There's a silence, as everyone just tends to stare at each other.

Finally, the music would start as pale fingers hit the keys and a soft tune flows through. Santana misses the mark. There's a pause and Brittany moves to stand, to help her protector and her sometimes lover. The dancer doesn't ask, she just engulfs the Latina in a hug that lasts, for what seems like the longest time. There's a bubble around the choir room because there are only four people in Lima that have the capacity to understand. A series of broken breaths are let out and Santana smiles gratefully through her anxiety. She leads the dancer back to her chair and gives Quinn a firmer nod.

I over think things

I say what if we're not meant to be

Well you know what so what

Make a mistake with me

The Latina chokes on her chuckle as she shakes her head. Moisture gathers around her dark brown orbs. The pressure is releasing its hold on her mind and she feels honest. Kneeling down, she takes Brittany's hand. The dancer is captivated. Her eyes glitter under the fluorescent lights. From the first line, things become easier. In front of her, all Santana is looking at is sincerity, caring and pure innocence. She revises her previous statement. It's true that the song was written in a day but _this_, this was a long time coming.

Nobody goes through this life and does

Everything perfectly

We're all gonna fail so you might as well

Make a mistake with me

Santana winks, leading the dancer up to stand. She brings her close and sways a little. Her voice gets louder and thicker. She'll always be _so damn emotional_ around Brittany and she's ready to shout to everybody why. There's no logical reason, no real argument, that's strong enough to deny this. The tall blonde isn't a dirty little secret and their relationship was more than closeted make out sessions, _and_ spontaneous sexual encounters.

Sometimes baby when we take

A chance that has this much at stake

We look back and in hindsight

What seemed wrong looks more like right

The Latina twirls the dancer. She twirls her _all around the room._

So I say worst case we'll be left with

Lots of good memories

This chance we have well it's worth that

So make a mistake with me

After circling around the various obstacles, Brittany lands back in her chair, bringing Santana down with her. It ends with the Latina's upper body leant on top of the dancer's pale knees and _both of them_ being a bit out of breath. The darker girl sings lowly into the tall blonde's ear.

I'm tellin' you the right thing to do

Is make a mistake

Make a mistake

Make a mistake with me

Leaning back, Santana sees the unspoken question the dancer's eyes. This isn't the first time she's been sung to by the Latina. Brittany can understand that Santana needs time, so she doesn't let her hopes overtake her. A pang pierces Santana's heart at the look. _She_ put it there. It makes Brittany look years older and wiser because she has to take care of her best friend's emotions. Santana pulls back, squeezing both of the dancer's hands. Her voice is resolute, rough and raw. She's finally _there._

"I'm saying yes, Britts. Yes, to the handholding, ridiculously stupid loving glances and public lady-kisses in the hallway."

Almost instantly, a smile breaks. Brittany grips the strong hands in hers. Santana nods with certainty. She wasn't wrong. This wasn't wrong. Leaning up, her hand grazes and warms the dancer's cheek. There's a tear down both of their faces.

"I'll do everything prince freaking charming is supposed to do and you can tell _everybody_."

It comes out rough yet caring. A small chuckle escapes. The girls get lost in the moment. From the piano, Quinn seems proud and pleased. Rachel can't help but squeal at the romanticism of the scene. She leans back into _her_ blonde's arms and feels at home. Meanwhile, Santana takes a break, waiting for the words.

"Britts – "

Whatever it was, the thought was cut off. There's barely any noise in the room because the dancer has dragged the Latina up by the collar of her shirt, placing their lips together. They move together, getting carried away. Like a fairytale, the contact causes tingles and sparks of love. They feel it in every cell of their body. When they break apart, they can't stop the laughter. The girls decompress after so long…

Eventually, Brittany will clap her hands together joyfully as a thought occurs to her.

"Yay now we can double date. And I can hang out with Rachy more. She's teaching me big words."

Santana and Quinn both raise their eyebrows. The dancer bounces without a care, going to hold the diva's hand. They stand walking ahead of their counterparts. Brittany's clear voice rings out.

"Disillusioned and cynical…what San was before today."

The comment stops the alpha girls in their tracks. Quinn's eyes are wide and she shakes her head at the scenario. In the corridors, a loud groan would erupt from the Latina. The sound will reverberate through the walls as a hollow growl.

"Q! You're dead to me."

Then, a chuckle will follow. Squeals and giggle sounding out, when the sarcastic girls catch up with their better halves.

There are two couples in the small town that have everything to fight for. _They're the lucky ones._

/

Anyways, I tried to show the progression as things start to head closer to maturity. I had to give Brittana some closure because they are too awesome not to.

Anyways I'll leave you guys to it. I'd love to read your takes if you have the time to submit them.


	16. Chapter 16 First Fights & Confessions

**Chapter 16 – Of First Fights and Heated Confessions **

Hi guys. As you can see the length is insane but hey I think it'll be good. =D

_Nightbrainzz, _I did gets to writing but only finished it now. I think you'll be back just in time.

_Phoebex13, _I'm honored that you like this fic so much. But now worries there's still a large bit to go before the story ends.

_Cali, _well have fun and I'll chat to you later. XD

/

The girls are walking down a lightly lit street of their tenth formal date when they make their first mistake in reasoning. It's so innocuous that they won't realize, not till days later.

However, in the now, Quinn just glances down at their joined hands, swinging slightly. She feels nine years old again, landing in that perfect sense of happiness that's careless and _so _easy. The movement catches Rachel's attention, causing her take a pause from her spiel, beaming brightly. Her hand goes to brush a wild blonde strand back behind pale ears. Hazel green eyes _glitter _in response_. _An athletic body leans forward. They had just gone to see latest Footloose remake. Somehow, the shorter girl had managed to pick the movie yet again. It's been a month. Technically it's their anniversary or something like it, but amazingly they don't care. It's not that big of a deal because the girls do romantic gestures all the time. Flowers, songs or whispered adorations, there's no designated day. So when Rachel, out of all the people, suggests a quiet evening the blonde just smiles, kissing her softly. Surprise doesn't even bother making an appearance when she'll later be informed that the singer already had a choice in mind. Quinn doesn't care. She barely sees the film anyway, her senses always so attuned to the diva next to her. 

After the second scene, her mind would begin to wonder. The pianist would encounter a thought that, in ten years, she'd love to be in the same moment, when both of them are a little older, a little wiser and still pathetically captivated by the other. In that second, her hand would subconsciously squeeze the brunette's. Rachel would intuitively rip her attention away from the screen _despite_ the fact that she _hates _missing important plotlines. Her frame would be rigid with concern initially, before analyzing the situation. Understanding and contentment soon follow. It all happens in five seconds and the softball player would think that that face is far more interesting and expressive than any actor. And she'd like to stay here, staring, _all night. _

Back in the present, the girls are walking to Rachel's house. There are three reasons. The first is that they just want to spend more time together and gazing at the stars whilst making quips and telling anecdotes seems like a wonderful way to do so. The second is that the blonde would never let Rachel walk home alone, it's a mixture between protective concern and a sense of chivalry that tends to make itself known around the singer. The third is that Quinn's car is parked outside the Berry home. Now that they're only one block away, they'll start to slow down. Neither quite ready to go home. They stop, silent conversations with their eyes as nearby plants, animals and the occasional firefly vies for their attention.

Wait, one more minute.

The diva will shake her head adorably. She'll kiss her girlfriend softly before dragging them in another direction, to the park opposite her house. Her grip is strong, firm and a means for her feelings to travel to the blonde. Still dazed from the warmness of her lips, Quinn stumbles at the initial propulsion before relaxing. She lets Rachel take her wherever she wants. When they get there, the taller girl will run a little faster to snatch the adult swing, laughing and pumping her fist in victory. It's ridiculously immature but completely true to her internal impulses and _fun_. The singer will sigh amusedly taking a glance at the open children's chair. With an expert flip of her luscious brown hair, she'll stride confidently past it. She'll slide her left arm around the pianist's shoulders and her right will clasp it. The ex-captain's breath hitches with pink tinted cheeks. Slowly, tenderly and winningly the short singer will lower herself onto the ex-cheerleaders lap. Pale arms automatically stabilize and find purchase around her slim waist. The girls sit, rest and think for a while. Quinn focuses on how the streetlights reflect beautifully in the singer's eyes and how her diminutive smile only becomes more genuine and etched by the flickering shadows. Rachel loses herself in the blonde's neck, her senses come alive in the dark. The wind blows, half and hour passes and they clutch each other closer.

By the end, the softball player would walk her girl to the door. They'll both fidget and stutter because they're not quite ready to end the night, all the while, aware of the entertained fathers by the window. Unintelligent things filter from the diva's mouth as she tries to generate a reason to stay. _Oh, have you done the history homework?_ Quinn has no interest in the subject or it's mindless tasks, but she'll speak about it like it's the single most important aspect of her life. She'll lean and linger in the doorway taking the unspoken invitation to go into the singer's space. Eventually, a loud cough comes from behind the curtains and they'll both blush, realizing the time. Ten minutes past curfew. The pianist whispers goodnight, turning and moving to her car. She does quickly, before they both find another point of conversation. As her hand grips the lever to her hatchback and something will be missing. Her sight trails back to the door of the house where the brunette is still standing.

_Suddenly, _she remembers, rushing back to the stoop, the kiss good night. Rachel's eyes lights up the moment the ex-captain comes back. Their lips press. By then, Hiram and Leroy have retired to the couch with shaking heads and laughing smiles, they've long since given up on the concept of a chaste goodbye.

The mistake is that when the girls are wound around each other, they'll think that the world can't touch what they have…_they're wrong…_

/

A sharp whistle blew. McKinley's girl's softball team rolled their eyes as their muscles automatically spasms, anxiety and fear flow through their veins. It's a classically conditioned trait much like salivation at the dinnertime bell. There in front of the field stood an irate vein throbbing Sue Sylvester. The megaphone clenched tightly in whitened-fists and a permanent scowl present.

"Alright you ingrates, stand to attention. Bad news, we're down one member of the team."

The coach swears a death threat under her breath as she circles her team. Each member stood so straight that it almost looked as if backs might be broken. Over the season, they've learnt to read the older women's thinning of the lips and sharp angry eyes. Sue leaned close as she made her rounds, glaring into their eyes. Only Santana Brittany and Quinn didn't wince. They just focused ahead. Sue's voice booms.

"Tammy went and decided that a good way to prepare for our upcoming game would be to catch the flu."

Whispers started like a plague. A few giggles broke out when a particularly strong breeze raised come of the coach's hair up vertically in the air. For once, her distaste for all hair styling products failed her. Still she had bigger problems, feigning several pitches at the girls that continued to lose their composure. Her expression actually makes it appear as if the words caused her physical pain and were actually being _spit _from her mouth.

"In an ironic twist of events, it was actually her subsequent fall down the stairs which broke her pencil legs and took her out for the rest of the season."

This time the discussions that broke out were out of concern. Quinn raised her eyebrow at Santana and Brittany whom both shrugged. They didn't have any reserves because the sport had been so unpopular. Whereas an annoyed Sue just shook her head, this wasn't a book club if the girls wanted to chitchat and send flowers they could do so in their own time. She dug her heels into the pitching mound, whistling into the megaphone. Birds, insects and human beings within a certain radius lost their hearing that day. In surprise, Brittany instinctively shies into the Latina's arms. The fiery ex-cheerleader cups her hands over the dancer's ears, not once worrying about her own. She shoots her captain a look. The pianist just cringes in response. Her delicate ears redden. Somehow, over everything Sue's disgruntled tone still sounds through the high bitched ring.

"Disappointment and disgust, it's an emotion that I've learnt to associate with you. I said to get sick, do drugs and get pregnant _after not before_ we win the championship."

The coach crosses her arms.

"So now we're recruiting in house."

Santana's rebuttal comes out before she has a chance to censor it.

"How does that even work? If you give one of us Tammy's position, we'll still be one short."

Sue grunts, turning to her player. Sarcasm exudes from every pore, placating and patronizing at the same time.

"Congratulations funbags. I was wrong, maybe there is_ some_ residual brain cells left in there somewhere. But no, we're going to recruit from the Cheerios. Assuming that they've kept to my old regimen they should still be fit enough."

After that, it's the first time that the girls notice the line of cheerleaders filtering out on the field. There's eagerness and a desire to belong in something coordinated again. Alarmingly their lives do nothing but fall apart with out Sue Sylvester's every command and derision. The coach nods to several of them to bring over chairs and desks. Those softball players that had never desired to be in mocking distance of the Cheerios seem to retreat and squirm uncomfortably.

"Trials start now. Captain Fakeboobs, Brittany and Q. you're going to help me pick your new inmate. Your designations will be Simon, Paula and Randy, mirroring that ridiculously mind-rotting talent show. Dreams might come true? Spare me the drivel. The only positive is the bloodlust."

Resignedly, the trio moves to the indicated area before the older woman can administer another reprimand. Sue eyes glisten with undisguised glee as she stares at the nervous cheerleader applicants.

"I will represent, me, Sue Sylvester, because I'm _already_ an institution and _everyone_ should know me. The rest of you will stay and watch. Rest assured, if I see more than one girl that can do _anything_ better than you I will not hesitate to kick your sorry selves off my team."

/

It takes approximately an hour to go through all the prospective members. Girl after girl, the four judges slowly but surely began to loose their wits and hopes. It may be that the Cheerios were athletically able but they had no concept of the specific rules and skills required for the game. Santana didn't think that a ball could be thrown in such a misdirected manner. Brittany with her quick reflexes had to duck when a flying metal bat sailed over her head from a loose grip. She had to pull the Latina back from ripping apart the young freshman cheerleader. Quinn started rubbing her eyes so much in attempt to stay awake, that her eyes become slightly red. She can't quite believe the sight in front of her. The girls look like a group of disorganized chickens without a pecking order. Similarly, Sue Sylvester seethes in her seat. Irritation roll off in waves while insults fire off at the ready.

"Are you kidding me?"

"I deserve monetary reimbursement for watching that!"

"A newborn could throw better!"

And when all else fails, softballs would spring out, heading to the head of the latest target. It's towards the end of the morning when their wishes are answered…only, not quite. Santana, Brittany and Quinn are packing their gear as Kelsey makes her way onto the field. They freeze up in shock and displeasure. There's a hint of curiosity but it's dulled by their immense dislike. For what it's worth the redhead doesn't say much, simply bowing her head, waiting for Sue Sylvester to make an order. It's a sign of respect because anyone could recognize the desire to fight and defend oneself simmering beneath her eyes. Subconsciously, Santana moves in front of the tall dancer, crossing her arms. There's a pregnant moment where Quinn drops her things back on the grass, walking back to her seat. Her hazel-greens are pointed and dissecting. She thinks she sees a flicker, a second where Kelsey isn't _Kelsey Edwards._ It makes a difference. Sue seems to consider something before grunting. She'll throw a mitt and a bat at the bully, silently intimating the instruction _show me what you've got._

And…the redhead is _good. _Confidently, she'll pass every task, as if it was a simple arithmetic. Her movements are practiced and precise. It's perfect but it causes an uncomfortable feeling that jars all of the judges. Santana is only slightly impressed. Brittany seems to wear a careful look. And Quinn, she feels cold watching because everything is so empty. There was no real desire to win in those cobalt eyes, only a dogged sense of determination. There's no glow of achievement upon the success of a near impossible shot. There's _no one_ worth _seeing_ on that field. So why is she even there?

In contrast, Sue Sylvester cares about stats, she cares about championships and she cares about destroying Schuester's band of fools. With that said, even the snarky coach doesn't understand her own lack of joy in the current situation. They had possibly found Tammy's acceptable replacement and all she can do is snap her writing utensil in half and stare with boredom at the scene. Sue thinks that she needs to shove some faculty members around and humiliate a few freshmen because that pesky feeling resembling a conscience seemed to be rearing its ugly head. _It's a disease._

At the end, Kelsey makes her way to the four people by the desks. She keeps her head down. Butterflies? No, more like elephants stomp around her stomach as she fists her hands behind her back. For the first time that morning, she'll stop her autopilot and actually listen to her mind. Why was she even here? She recalls reading the email, waking up early and driving over but she doesn't remember _wanting_ to do any of it. Since the snapping sting of the ice-cold corn syrup, she's been confused, floating from class to class, soaking in _nothing_. All the while Quinn's words echo _we're not better…_

Later, without her will, she looks up. Her eyes find the captain's and she tries to read her. There's a sense of familiarity and long forgotten camaraderie hidden in those hazel-greens. But above all, there's an intensity that Kelsey knows she lacks. It's also something that she's never seen in the blonde until this year. Quinn twirls her pen, ruminating. Her thoughts travel to Rachel and she relaxes. She surrenders to that calm and serenity she's associated with the diva. However, before long she's brought back to the present. By her mental image of the brunette, her initial anger and tendency to perform retaliatory acts against the redhead _fade_. She see's clearly, finally noticing something. She realizes that the tall girl is standing in front of them, _unsure._

Santana cracks knuckles menacingly, enjoying the brief flinch. Her voice is measured as she stares Kelsey down. 

"Good swing. Strong pitch. But I don't like you and I can't trust you. You're a bitch, so, my answer is _no_."

By the tone, Brittany rubs the Latina's back comfortingly, tilting her head. For a whole minute she just seems to look at Kelsey. And even then, her eyes glaze over and she's not quite there. Her focus is in disarray. That's probably the reason for the redhead's surprise when she hears the dancer's soft compassionate tones.

"Everyone deserves a second chance."

Sue just rolls her eyes. Carelessly, she aims her pen at the redhead to bring her attention back. A grunt of amusement comes out when the blue biro bounces of that smooth forehead. They were going to have to work on reflexes. The coach launches her spiel.

"Well Kelsey, other than the fact that your red hair puts you genetically closer to the Neanderthals and the fact that every time I lay my eyes on it, I feel like fire ants are just going to swarm out and claw me eyes out, you're the only useable person here."

There's a gap. Santana growls and suddenly it's all on Quinn. Make it, a go ahead or make it a tie, it's a heavy decision. She twists the cap to her blue pen and her eyes bore into the redhead's. The fact that Kelsey is putting herself out there _should _count for something, shouldn't it? Silence. The pianist thinks that she sees a sliver of herself in the girl and wants to save her, like how a certain singer did for her. Not for the first time, she can picture who she would have been if things hadn't changed this year. She also remembers Kelsey the first time they'd met, innocent, naïve and helpful. The captain knows what it's like to have a Russell or a Mary in her life. But she had managed to escape _her _father; the redhead hadn't with her mother. Sympathy and empathy comes as a flood. Quinn pictures Rachel and takes a breath. Her world comes back into focus and she feels stronger.

However her lack of words have had an effect. Not even bothering to wait, Kelsey shakes her head to herself muttering a quick apology before running back into the lockers. She has no control over the tears that trails down her cheeks.

/

The redhead is busy cramming her shoes and socks into her duffel when she hears light footsteps. Instantly she stops, her frame rigid. She focuses on controlling her harsh breathing. Somehow, she knows who it is.

"If you came to yell at me, don't bother. I should have known that this was a bad idea, I'm out of here."

With that, she throws her bag over her shoulder heading for the door.

"Kelsey! Sit down!"

Quinn's command is loud, filling the whole room. Tiredly, the redhead turns around. She refuses to sit, some small sign of rebellion, some small defense. At that, the blonde runs her finger through her short locks frustrated. Single steps forward, single steps closer. Her tone is serious but non-threatening and Kelsey is shocked.

"You _don't_ know anything about me. And you're the one who came to us. Why?"

Shaking her head the redhead finds the floor seems more interesting.

"Does it matter?"

A shrug from the pianist is seen from the corner of her eyes. Quinn has taken residence, leaning against the wall.

"Depends on the answer."

Thoughts race through the redhead's mind. It's hard to reconcile this Quinn with the one that had ruled Cheerios and McKinley with an iron fist. She's different, serene and full of substance. Kelsey is envious and she still can't believe that it hasn't come to fists and black eyes yet. She had heard all the talks of the school's new couple. In her exile, she can recognize that what she's done was wrong but she doesn't feel guilty. Waking up this morning, that fact chilled her to her core. So she remembered that emergency softball tryouts were held today. The crux of the matter is that she doesn't see the HBIC in the blonde anymore. There's still that same sense of control and power but it's not scornful. It's only knowledgeable, weathered and _almost wise_. So for a moment, Kelsey feels that she might as well be honest because she won't get away with a lie.

"…I wanted to be real. I wanted to be _someone_ and not just the bitch."

Quinn tilts her head.

"Does your mother know that you're doing this?"

The redhead snorts in contempt.

"No. If she did, I wouldn't be here. You know that Quinn."

And the blonde _did, _somewhere_._ For the Fabrays and the Edwards have always gone to the same church. Mary and Russell had always been competitive friends. It's forgotten but the girls used to play together a long time ago, sandcastles and tea parties. The blonde was always two years older. They had only become reacquainted when Quinn had transferred to Lima. But by then, the years had changed both of them, crafting them into people that they'd never thought that they would be. There's a niggling feeling that suggests a history, but the memories aren't there... Their dialogues don't feel alien. The pianist pushes off from her position.

"So what if she did find out? What would you do? Would you back out? Because Kelsey, this is a team, we depend on each other."

Each question seems to take it's own separate shot to the redhead's composure. She pushes her palms into her face, groaning.

"…What do you want me to say?"

"Exactly what you want, from this chance, from this team. The _truth_."

With force, Quinn replies. Shallow breathing and the occasional sound of annoyance is given as a response. Kelsey didn't open up but then again, she never thought that the blonde would either. Parent's like Mary and Russell didn't teach that way, having a distinctly different doctrine. Keep everything in, never let anyone see you cards and strike with efficiency. Looking up, the redhead sees that the older girl must be fighting all her instincts to be who she was now. It must be some sort of worth it. Kelsey repeats the thought in her mind and finally, she has the courage to say.

"Stay…if she found out, I would still _stay_."

The whispered words become so loud in the empty room. Kelsey feels lighter; she's surprised by her own answer. Quinn nods, looking at the redhead. She makes a passing comment.

"You're not who you want to be yet. You're not even close… but this is a good place as any to start."

At that, Kelsey's head snaps up. Gratitude reflects in her eyes. Until now, she was unaware just how much this opportunity meant to her. The pianist takes the redhead's duffel, shoving it into Tammy's locker. Later, she'll stop as she heads to the door.

"Practice starts at 5 every second morning, short of some sort of miracle. Don't be late or Santana will eat you alive."

Her last words are infused with a tinge of warmth and kindness. And Kelsey just _has_ to ask.

"Quinn! Berry's really changed you hasn't she?"

They can hear Sue's continued and barked orders in the background. The blonde closes her eyes. Kelsey wonders if the captain realizes that there's a small but genuine smile on her face and beauty in the way her worries drain away, _just_ at the mention of the short singer. But, Quinn just shrugs her shoulders moving out. _She does know. It's what she counts on. _The redhead notices the constant tug of war in the captain. Every now and then, the older girl would forget her present and remember her anger for all the bullying that Kelsey has done. The bully would tense, expecting a blow but it _never_ does come. The ex-head Cheerio would take a deep breath, trace a pattern on a surface and return to herself.

In the end, the redhead is left in the changing area, _alone,_ with a word on the tip of her tongue.

"Thank you."

For once, she _means_ it.

/

The first warning bell rings and with that Sue Sylvester blows the whistle putting an end to the morning training session. With aching muscles and bruised skins the team scampers off the field, eager for a warm shower and to get to their first class on time. As the new recruit, Kelsey is allocated the pleasure of putting all the equipment away. Glancing at her wristwatch, she tries to hurry. After enduring all of the coach's beginner's rage and the hatred of most of her teammates, she's exhausted and more than a little frustrated. It wasn't possible that all of the pitches seemed to accidentally hit her head, hazing only went so far. The redhead refused to be a fool. In the midst her internal tantrum, she loads more softballs into her arms than she can handle and trips over various haphazardly positioned bats. She falls face first and it _hurts._ For the first time in her 16 years she feels _low_, she thinks that she's reached the bottom. So, for a while, she just lies there, wondering if it was even worth it. She'll groan and slap the grass in a bad temper.

Quinn, Santana and Brittany are almost the last to change. The trio is not in a rush. They had figured out the art out of forging Mr Schue's signature years ago, carrying printouts of blank hall passes in their bag. However, this time when they are about to go in, they hear the release of pent up aggravation on mound. They turn, taking a look. Brittany is curious whilst the Latina shakes her head at the sight; the redhead in all her maturity with flailing arms. After watching several more of Kelsey's failed attempts with the equipment, eventually the pianist would tell her friends to go ahead. A feint sense of sympathy tugs in her gut as she tells them that she'd take care of it. Quinn would then proceed to receive a hug from the taller blonde and a sharp warning to be careful from Santana. Then, they would part ways.

Under the warm spray of the showers, Santana teaches Brittany the meaning behind afternoon delight before filtering out of the swinging doors to their class. They walk on air, only to freeze at the sight of an enthusiastic Rachel waiting by the drinking fountain. Mutual looks of apprehension and worry appear on their faces as they remember the reason why Quinn wasn't with them. At that moment, they curse the singer for making their captain a better person; for the old version of the blonde would have kicked Kelsey to the curb and prodded her a few more times for good measure. Brittany skips over with a too wide smile.

"What's up, Rachy?"

"Hi Brittany, I'm just waiting for Quinn. I thought I'd surprise her since she always walks me to my classes."

At that moment, the ex-cheerleader's also curse the brunette for being so considerate. She seems to fidget and stand on her toes to looks around their shoulder in an attempt to see behind them. Subtly, Santana purposely makes it hard. It's not that she thinks that there's something that even needs to be hidden. But, if the diva found out, it would be a stupid hitch to a good relationship. Rachel Berry wasn't the most secure person on the planet, the Latina knows because she used to exploit it in the past. Quinn Fabray _was_ a devoted and enamored mess around the singer. But nonetheless, she was also very attractive, holding a questionable track record. It's stupid but it makes all the difference. And, Brittany's conversation isn't an adequate distractor because the diva still asks.

"Doesn't she normally come out with you guys?"

There's a pause. Brittany's smile falters. And it's just a collision of bad timing because, at that second, Kelsey and Quinn both walk out through the swinging doors. The redhead is laughing, clutching her stomach, whilst the blonde is shaking her head in an amused manner. There's a small quirk to her lips as she makes a gesture with her hands. In reality, all they are talking about is an amusing situation regarding a baseball bat and Sue Sylvester's possible demise from the team. The pianist is simply demonstrating the best arc to bring the significantly taller older woman down.

But, it _doesn't look like it._ Not to a girlfriend. Not to Rachel.

Her bright smile falls and twists into something else entirely. The singer grinds her teeth and her fists whiten. Non-existent violent tendencies spring to life as her eyes zoom on specific aspects of the interaction. The first was that her girlfriend wasn't rejecting the redhead or telling her to go away. The second was the look Kelsey wore, a mixture of admiration, understanding and what could only be described as hero-worship. The redhead laughs louder than she needs to. The pianist isn't as mean as she _could be. _The flush spanning the redhead's cheek and neck is the first in a chain of events that the singer _isn't_ equipped to handle. Past inadequacies, insecurities and her care for the blonde causes her hard to constrict, as small needles stabs at her heart. She can't see past her emotions and her small frame shakes. Deep down she knows that Quinn loves her even if she hasn't said it. Deep down she knows that it's probably nothing but the logic can't pierce through the murky haze.

Santana has an exasperated palm to her forehead, because there _wa_s something there but it wasn't what anyone thought. It was just another piece of her friend's complicated history. Even Brittany can grasp that Rachel and Quinn's best features will work _against_ them this time_, _because they are _so _invested in each other. Protectiveness will turn into jealousy and conscientiousness will become neuroticism. The Latina leans forward next to the diva.

"Listen before you judge, Berry."

/

After Santana and Brittany leave, amazingly it seems to coincide with the end of Kelsey and Quinn's conversation as well. The redhead nods respectfully to her team captain before leaving. Still not seeing the brunette in the corner, the blonde begins to scroll through her contacts on her phone. She wants to wish her girlfriend a good start to the day. She also never gets to push the send button because Rachel strides up to her in an angry fashion, demanding her immediate attention.

"What is she doing here?"

The question comes out of nowhere but it doesn't faze the softball player. It a curious fact, but she knows when to argue and when to push. Right now, the singer needs direct answers and honesty. So Quinn gives her that. This wasn't a game of control or what you could make your partner admit to. Surprisingly, she's never had the inclination to _play _in this relationship and most importantly point Rachel wouldn't have let her anyway. The pianist reaffirms that she needs the singer just by holding those brown eyes. Her _own_ questions can come later. _Right now, _it's not about her. She just wants to make the worry lines go away from tan skin.

"Tammy caught the flu and fell down the stairs, breaking her femur. Coach just told us this morning. Kelsey is taking her place for now."

The words are straightforward, honest. It explains everything. However Rachel still bristles. Thoughts of the slushies and the pain that the redhead had caused presented in her mind like a slide show. If she tries she can still remember the sting, the coldness and the mocking laughter. The singer doesn't hold grudges but she isn't so naïve as to forego all her defenses a second time. Kelsey causes them to come up. And Kelsey with _Quinn _makes her skin crawl. If the diva closes her eyes she remembers what the pianist looks like when she's smiling at someone else. It's an absurd clingy argument so she sticks with her initial annoyances.

"Quinn, have you forgotten what she did to you? To _me?_ You can't trust her!"

"_I know,_ Rachel. You have to calm down. Kelsey and I are not friends, ok?"

The blonde takes a step forward and goes to hold the singer's hand in hers. She squeezes them softly, until she has Rachel's full attention. The tone she uses carries so much meaning and is _reasonable. _There's no aggravation or annoyance that would normally have been present if she was falsely accused. In the front of her mind and the tip of her tongue, there's only concern and care.

"I can't be her friend after the things that she's done. But it seems like she's trying to change. And she is on the team."

The diva takes a deep breath as she turns her head away peevishly. Her heart races at the gentleness and sincerity that the blonde portrays. But, she wants to stay mad because she's still unsure.

"You sure looked welcoming."

There's a pause after that when the blonde is frozen before amusement begins to fill her features.

"Wait a minute are you jealous?"

Rachel ducks her head away her cheeks redden. It's ridiculous she knows but she's never been one for being reasonable. Quinn can't help but smile. She feels ten feet tall. The fact that the singer thinks that she's important enough, _good enough_ to be distressed over, makes her walk a little straighter and drives her to be a little _better._ The truth is that most of the time she feels ordinary but one word, one gaze or one touch from the singer changes her view. Under the covetous eyes of footballers and hockey players the pianist feels disgusted, used and empty. Under warm brown orbs, she's different. She's in awe that the diva wants her to herself to the point where she's annoyed at another for being around the blonde. The smile is light and the softball player basks, until she realizes that the diva hasn't relaxed in her arms. Slowly she uses her hand to lift the brunette's face up. There's a layer of moisture covering Rachel's eyes and it causes the pianist to deflate.

"Rachel, I'm sorry…Come here."

The gravity of the situation registers and she drags her girl into the nearest classroom. As soon as the door closes Quinn rustles through her duffel to bring out her chemistry exercise book. She flips to the recent pages of the last month and hand it to the brunette. The singer's soft gasp echoes in the empty room. Tan hands trace the pages, taking everything in. One each sheet there's, a series of sketches and random song lines _everywhere_; on the top, on the side and _in between_ homework tasks and class notes. Hearts, stars and pictures of the diva are showcased. Each scratch of the pencil covers older erased ones, revealing a desire by the artist to make the features perfect, to truthfully and not overlook the beauty of her subject. It's a messily beautiful mix. And Rachel nearly chokes on the knowledge that this was for her. She feels Quinn shuffle beside her.

"This is what I always end up doing in class after I finish the tasks. Rachel, _believe me_ when I say that you have _nothing _to be worried about. I… I don't think about anyone else."

The singer can do nothing but smile dumbly. The processing is slow but feelings of joy would eventually appear. Kissing the blonde softly on the lips, she clutches the book to her chest and starts to pull Quinn to her next class. When the blonde reaches her desk, she'll recall that she actually _needs _her notes for today's pop quiz. Her palm slaps her forehead because when she stands, Rachel can barely be seen in the halls. Mrs Adams voice cracks in and out.

"I do hope you are ready for todays test. I will give those of you that haven't, 10 minutes to brush up on your notes."

The pianist grins shaking her head to herself. She's suddenly glad that she had studied extra the night before. But mostly, she's just reassured that if the diva feels lost or unconfident she can always refer to Quinn's reverent pictures and messages.

/

The next couple days pass like a content blur. Before long it's Wednesday, the middle of the week and the girls get tested again. Santana and Brittany walk into the cafeteria with grim expressions as they got to sit with the short brunette that is already sitting at their usual table. Heaviness weighs on their shoulders because their captain isn't with them. When they get there, they'll greet their friend by association. Rachel will smile only to tilt her head curiously when she realizes that Quinn isn't behind the girls. There's an automatic question in her eyes causing the Latina to rub her neck uncomfortably. Thanks to the dancer and extended time with the diva, she finds that she actually cares how this turn out. She might even be put off if Rachel isn't there to annoy her about her grammatically incorrect phrasing next lunchtime.

"Sorry Berry. But Sue's gots Q to stay behind and help Kelsey practice her skills. Q wanted to tell you herself but she couldn't get away. Coach has Becky keeping an eye on them."

Not for the first time, all three girls entertain the notion that Sue Sylvester might just be evil, in every sense of the word. The brunette's jaw tenses at the mention of the redhead but to her credit she relaxes after a few seconds. All the while her hand goes to touch the cover of an old exercise book. The movement does not go unnoticed by the Latina. However she is thankful she doesn't have to deal with a Rachel Berry sized tantrum. Santana has to wonder what was in between those pages because the singer honestly seemed aright by the news.

"If she's there for the rest of the period, how is she going to eat? Does she have food?"

Rachel asks when she thinks about the situation some more. Worry fills her expression as she thinks back to Mercede's experience of not eating, feinting and weight loss under her tenure in Cheerios, under Sue Sylvester. Santana and Brittany give each other a look before shrugging. They honestly didn't know.

"I'll bring Quinn a sandwich. Missing meal times can be hazardous to one's health as you over indulge in your next meal. Not that Quinn has anything to worry about there, but – "

Rachel began as she stood up.

"Berry shut up. I get it, but Q can take care of herself."

Santana interrupts. Frustrated, her hands rub her temples. She thinks that the singer might be good with the notion of her girlfriend helping the redhead until she sees the scene for herself. Visual input has a tendency to do that to a person. Almost certainly, her captain's connection with Kelsey could and _would _be misconstrued. The Latina knows the history there. Like how soldiers from other side of the worlds can so easily understand and function fluidly with each other, Quinn and Kelsey were linked by shared experiences and similar mistakes. It's a different sort of connection. But Rachel waves the comment away, walking out the door. Brittany fiddles with her snack pack.

"Rachy is going to get jealous."

The Latina nods, sighing.

"Yeah she is."

"That's going to be bad."

The dancer pouts. In response, Santana hugs the tall blonde to her body, kissing her slowly. When she pulls away, her tone is soothing.

"It'll be ok… Q will handle it."

/

Yawning, Quinn stretches out on the grass. The sun feels warm against her skin and the light breeze is refreshing. None of it is really enough though, because she still misses the brunette. Over the weeks, she had gotten used to lunch with her girl and without it, the day felt only half-finished. On the bleachers, she can see Becky keeping a vigilant guard and the captain has to snicker. Sue was really getting paranoid in her old age. But nonetheless it also means that she's trapped. Closing her eyes, she tries to imagine Rachel smiling next to her and feeding her the latest of vegan cuisine. It's brings some measure of happiness as her frown begins to fades. Across from her there's a growl of aggravation as another softball hits the mesh for the fiftieth time. Kelsey swears under her breath. They had been at this for the past half an hour, hungry and tired.

"Seriously Sue is going to get run over one day, most likely from one of her precious cheerleaders. This is insane, Quinn! All I did was fumble _once._ It's not like I dropped a nuclear weapon or something."

Quinn thinks that the sun has finally cracked the redhead, who begins to give up on accuracy. She actually starts to aim her next shot at Becky, despite knowing that it would never get there. Behind her, the pianist tries to stifle her chuckles. Oh, the joys of working under Sue. There were very few. Quickly, the blonde takes the projectile from Kelsey only to hand her a bat instead. Apparently her hits weren't quite up to par either.

"What? Did you suddenly forget how she is? She's hardly left the Cheerios for that long."

Kelsey glared at the blonde. And the older girl sighs; she takes the bat back to demonstrate the arc. She also knows that parts of it had nothing to do with the redhead's mistakes on the field. Sue was a complicated person. She believed in taking advantage of everything if you were on top but there were carefully drawn lines. The coach used to have a disabled sister, whom she loved dearly. The fact that Kelsey had slushied Artie would be her downfall. So, whilst the pianist didn't condone any of the redhead's past actions she feels sympathy because she just didn't know. That and Quinn has actually had the displeasure of meeting Mary Edwards. The woman didn't have limits, only a flawed sense of morality. Children were the product of their environments. Alarmingly, Russell might pale in comparison. So, her tone becomes kind. Neither notices the short singer who has just made it from the doors near the bleachers.

"Look, the trick to it is to fumble and hit foul shots, just not when Sue's around."

With that, the captain sits back down. She starts the count before pitching the ball. She'll nod, acknowledging Kelsey's gratitude without making her say it. Pride was a powerful thing. In her breaks, she'll take a couple of blades of grass and begin a weave. It was something that they had been taught in summer camp in Bellevue, grass bracelets, an environmentally friendly way of saying that you care. With nimble fingers she'll adjust the length with Rachel's wrist in mind. The particularly difficult part was folding the ends of it into a star. When she does, she'll yelp in victory, holding it up to the light. Kelsey pauses from her task to take a look at it. In a fast movement she'll snatch the crafted jewelry away trying on her own risk. The childish deed makes Quinn roll her eyes and shake her head as she patiently waits for it back.

For a third party, the scene is crushing. Everything action is revisited and seen to mean something else. At the beginning Rachel thinks that she can handle this. They were just training and she had the blonde's exercise book in her arms. She remembers the feelings behind those written words of adoration and the beauty in the sketched images. But as time passes, and Quinn's smile gradually becomes kind, the singer begins to loose her faith. Her mind fixates on the relaxed nature of the interaction and the way her girlfriend actually seems _patient._ The brunette's emotions restrict her ability to fathom it or think clearly. She diva hates the situation; she hates _this,_ feeling so weak and insecure. However her heart begins to crack when she sees Kelsey with the bracelet that the pianist had made. Tears blur her vision as she waits for her girlfriend to snatch it back. The short singer runs away when it doesn't happen. Her hands can't wipe away the moisture fast enough, garnering strange glances from student in the halls.

/

The rest of the day is terrifying for the softball captain.

When she walks down the halls, weird looks are directed her way and it's _not_ all right because she doesn't have Rachel next to her. She can't snap at those that linger too long because the thin air surrounding her couldn't possibly make her feel warm or apologize on her behalf. Somehow at every turn, even within shared classes, the singer is nearly in her grasp, only to disappear into a throng of bodies or a class task. Confusion encompasses the Quinn's thoughts and she's at a loss. But she's not ready to give up. She'll chase the brunette and make a fool of herself, but she won't walk away.

Even so, it does hurt when those brown orbs didn't light up in her direction, instead dulling and glued to the floor. Rachel seems to ignore the insistent whispers and yells for her attention. It sad, because the diva doesn't mean to be so harsh but the pain is unbearable. The knowledge that the girls would continue to have sports practices before, during and after school weighs heavily. She thinks that time might shift Quinn's kindness into something more. There's a defeated tone repeating monotonously in her head, that Kelsey and the blonde will only get closer.

However, in the moments when she's safe away from her girlfriend, the singer will bring out the exercise book and try to change her own mind. It shows that she still _wants _this. She still wants _Quinn. _So sitting on linoleum tiles, Rachel prays silently, using the content of the pages to drive her fears out. It's just hard doing it alone… And she collapses against the bathroom wall.

It's towards the end of the day when Quinn has Santana cornered and the Latina reveals that the diva visited the field at lunchtime. The captain uncharacteristically swears under her breath at the news. Somehow with the diva's present behaviour it's not a surprise. And the softball captain begins to lose her composure. Rachel Barbra Berry makes her do that, _all the time. _Quickly, she'll race to the brunette's locker, knowing that this would be the time where she would be packing her books away. On the way, realization will dawn on the blonde as she sifts through the possible events that could have caused such a mess. In her clutter of thoughts, relief is the most prominent because having this knowledge meant being able to find a solution. It meant that her girlfriend was avoiding her because she cared too much about whom she was spending her time with and not because she had suddenly decided that the Quinn wasn't whom she desired.

Reaching the lockers, the softball player relaxes. The singer is there. Thank _god._ Quietly, the blonde moves next to her. It's a sign that the Rachel knows that she is there when that petite body freezes. She seems to sigh, placing her head in the metal container for a moment before facing Quinn. It's the first time she's done that today. When hazel-greens meet chocolate browns, they can both admit that they've missed each other. The pianist swallows painfully, asking the pivotal question.

"So what did you see?"

At the question, the diva shakes her head depreciatingly.

"Wow, not even a denial. I guess there really is something there."

The accusation causes more upset than the blonde expects. As her confidence begins to waver and her strength withers under the pointed gaze, she comes to the awareness that she was wrong. Relief isn't the only emotion. She's angry. It's true, she has a reputation but Rachel was supposed to see past that. The singer had always been able to do so before. This time, Quinn's not guilty so she lets the irritation seep into her tone. She shows some weakness by letting the diva know that this _hurts._ The blonde might be the Head of the school but she's not calm and she's _not_ cool.

"There's nothing Rachel!"

In response, the brunette looks away disbelievingly and it causes something to snap in the taller girl.

"_Not_ that it matters because in your eyes if I deny it, I'll be _guilty_… And if I_ don't_, guess what? I'll _still_ be guilty! So you might as well tell me what you think you saw, so we can get through this."

The softball player is breathing heavily after her rant, no once breaking eye contact. Rachel sighs into herself. Tears begin to well.

"I saw you smile around her, Quinn. I saw you laugh. I saw you make her a bracelet out of grass. You can obviously have fun with any girl in the world so, what do you want from me?"

Silence. There's shock on pale features as she digests the words. Her voice comes out emotionless and in that second the diva is scared.

"Open your locker."

"What?"

The brunette exclaims, subconsciously she shies away. The old movement causes Quinn to soften. Care and tiredness filters back into her tone and she waves her hand softly.

"Just do it Rachel."

The small metal door creaks as its hinges turn. The brunette's hands go to her mouth and she gasps. For there it was, on top of her books was the green grass bracelet. Her mind even glosses over the blatant violation of her privacy and slightly criminal behaviour it must have taken for it to even be in there. Suddenly, she's not sure about anything she's seen today anymore. With finality, Quinn closes the locker after the singer takes the bracelet out.

"It wasn't for Kelsey. If you had actually looked carefully and still didn't automatically see me as the … HBIC, then you'd realize that she took it off my hands to look at it. _And_ after that she gave it back, telling me that I'm a sap but you'd love it. The thing is Rachel, _you_ didn't stay long enough because you had _already _made your decision up."

"But – "

"But nothing, Rachel!"

Quinn exclaims. Her hands palm her face in irritation.

"I was _smiling _because I was thinking about you. And I was laughing because she had said something funny about the stick that was up Coach's ass."

With that final explanation, the blonde loses her energy. She looks years older and completely drained. Most of all she doesn't look strong anymore. Her resigned confession slips out.

"Look I don't know what to say or how to make you understand."

And Rachel can say _nothing_. For the first time today, she concedes that she might've been totally wrong. She worries over the knowledge that she's hurt the blonde with her clingy tendencies and she wonder's if this relationship would be the cost. Why not? Finn did. She was too needy, he would say. Now looking up and seeing the fatigue and pain in the pianist, the diva knows that she won't cope if she loses Quinn. So instead she says the only thing she can. She states the only thing that she's still sure of.

"I don't see you as the HBIC, you know."

It seems like a step towards something. The softball player nods. It's strange because she _does_ understand. Her head tilts as she stares a little into the distance.

"… But a part of you can't let go of the fear, that I'll hurt you."

Getting off her position, Quinn takes the books from the singer's hands, helping her with her bag. After a breath, she's the person that took Rachel to those dates and wrote those songs again, pathetically captivated. The only difference is that there's weariness in her expression now. With gentle eyes, her free hand is held out for the diva.

"C'mon, I'll drive you home."

/

It's a silent trip. They both have a lot on their minds but neither wants to jump out of the car. They're still comforted by the presence of the other. And Quinn knows that she'll still do anything to make the singer smile. Rachel maintains that the blonde's eyebrow raises and sarcastic comments still make her internal systems melt. It's just disconcerting because this is their first fight and they don't quite know what to do. It might have been irrational but they thought that pettiness wouldn't affect their relationship. So there's no contingency plan. The car stops outside the Berry home, a well travelled path. Twisting in her seat the brunette turns to face the ex-cheerleader, hands wring. The pianist becomes unraveled by that small gesture.

"I just need time Quinn. Give me tonight. My head will get around this."

Quinn can't actually help it. She smiles gently at the determination in the shorter girl's eyes. After everything, she still thinks it's adorable. She'll nod her head at the request for time because hey, denial was never an option. It's a tender moment when she places her hand on the diva's cheek and Rachel leans into it. Hazel-green eyes trace over the singer's quirks as she speaks.

"I know. That's why I called ahead and told your fathers that I wouldn't be joining you for dinner."

A choked sigh relief comes from the shorter girl. She really would not have looked forward to explaining the situation to her fathers. Unexpectedly, in the cumbersome cabin of the car the diva's actions actually comes out gracefully as the she leans her forehead against Quinn's and they just breathe. It doesn't take a second for it to be synchronized causing them to shut their eyes, briefly. Eventually, the blonde takes the grass bracelet from the dashboard and ties it loosely around the singer's delicate wrist. A gasp escapes and they share a look. The simplicity of it is a sharp contrast against everything that Rachel is, but it still _belongs_. The softball player leans forward, whispering in the brunette's ear. Her words come out strangled and excruciatingly honest.

"Rachel…You can break me too... I'll see you tomorrow."

/

The next morning, Quinn is greeted with a tray of baked 'I'm sorry' cookies, the moment she opens her eyes. There's barely even time to adjust to the sunlight. Rachel stands at the foot of her bed different, contrite, refreshed and confident. The brunette was able to get her head around it; she poured her attention over old yearbooks and current memoirs from their dates, _learning to differentiate. _In the moment, the blonde doesn't have to ask; she just gets out of bed in her patched up oversized t-shirt. She carefully takes the baked food to her desk and gives the singer hug. They stay like that for a while as the previous day's events wash away. Curiously, their feelings are the absolution that they're both searching for and they don't need to say it out loud. Mentally, Quinn thanks her mother for letting the girl in.

The blonde's stomach rumbling breaks the peace, as the smell of the cookies permeate the room. A chuckle escapes the diva and she starts to pull back. But, the softball player doesn't let that happen, tightening her embrace with a pout. An endearing type of stubbornness crosses her features and the singer tries to brush the golden mussed up hair to normal. She likes being near her Quinn, anyway. She also feels better because she notices the few things that she's overlooked. The biggest of which is the way hazel-green eyes warmly receive her every movement. The pianist seems happier but not all that different to the person that the diva has seen all the days before. Adoring. Proud. Sure. There's a care in the way she interacts that prompts a realization. Rachel finally comprehends that Quinn _doesn't_ see any deal breakers. Her actions have never suggested an end and she's always been operating on the notion that they'll get through. The diva can do _anything_, be jealous, neurotic and paranoid. They'll _simply_ get through.

As the knowledge comes, in her blushing state Rachel's statement comes out a bit muffled in the taller girl's shoulder.

"I think that I might have over-baked."

A laugh bubbled up in both girls and the pianist lets go. She walks over to the tray amusedly. Her eyes shine as she lifts piece to her mouth, taking a giant bit for good measure. Her reassurance is easy and natural.

"It's alright, I love chocolate chip."

When they arrive to school Quinn has the bag of treats in her hand, literally blanching at her mother's suggestion that she leave it at home for the church group's book club. Possessively, she has it in her grip. Judy doesn't really understand until she sees how those reactions cause the Rachel's smile to grow. Her hand goes to her lips to cover the gasp threatening to escape as salty water builds around her eyes. The girls really were so entwined in their actions, cause and effect. The mother sees intrinsic properties that normally stem from life-long marriages, that deep-rooted knowledge of how to love. And for a second, she'll wonder philosophically, why them?

/

Things are good for a while. Santana is back to complaining about the sickeningly sweet gestures coming from the couple and Brittany is back to planning their double date. Rachel becomes accustomed to the presence of the redhead around her girlfriend, although she did do _one_ thing out of character and Kurt couldn't stop her. She's proud of it.

As the girls were coming to the cafeteria from a practice session, Rachel Barbra Berry waited. When her girlfriend waked through the door she strode confidently forward. The gossiping population of McKinley watch with undisguised curiosity as the singer smiles sweetly at Kelsey and then her girlfriend. Caution is thrown to the wind and she kisses Quinn Lucy Fabray. At first, it's just a press of their lips to stake some sort of claim, but bodily sensations get heightened and it turns into something more. Tongues parry and lunge, with purpose. _En garde._ It's no longer about proving something to others anymore. They're exploring themselves.Quinn smiles into the kiss, not one to be passive, her hands grip the small waist. The singer has a hold on the pianist's short strands and neck. There's no room for even air particles. It's better this way.

In the background, Santana's exclamation _might _make it to their ears.

"Damn! Berry got game."

Nobody questions whom the blonde belongs to but everyone smirks at the loss of Quinn's higher brain functions when the resident diva breaks away.

/

The peaceful _while _doesn't last, a week later unfortunate events test the girl's trust in this relationship and past personalities. They're without a care when they enter the glee choir room. They're wrapped around each other when they make it to the seats. And they're smiling goofily at the playful teasing of their teammates. It a perfect picture. But, when Mr Schue comes in with an uncertain frown. Attentions get drawn to the redhead standing awkwardly behind him. Eyes narrow and whispers spread like wildfire. Two people's happiness falls apart, with each of the teacher's spoken words.

"Kelsey is joining glee."

"Oh hells no."

Mercedes shouts. She's supported by most of team. But four girls don't say anything. They don't move a muscle. Brittany's duck daydream is tainted by her worry for her friends. Santana's capacity to tolerate the unfortunate chain of events is diminishing because it fells like the universe isn't even being fair anymore. Quinn stiffens; she's divided between concern for her girlfriend and concern for the reason that the redhead is standing here, in the choir room. She recognizes the defeated and betrayed look, wondering if Mary had set the oven timer for 30 minutes as well. Rachel hands tighten around pale hands and her head shakes. No, it couldn't happen in her sanctuary.

"Guys, please calm down. We've always been accepting of new members and it shouldn't change now. Kelsey has every right to be here if she wants. Give her a chance."

The flustered music teacher maintains. For a moment Rachel wonder's how many different ways he can say it for it to never to go through anyone's head. Their capacity to forgive is only so much. Even Kurt is feeling spiteful. The diva notices how Tina moves into Mike like a frightened child and she can't swallow this.

"No Mr Schue. Kelsey can't stay. This club has been through enough because of her and we won't be able to concentrate on Nationals if were constantly worrying about how to deal with this situation. It's counter-productive."

Finally, the diva turns to look at the redhead and speaks calmly.

"I'm sorry Kelsey. I know that you've changed but it won't work."

And something that surprises her is that she genuinely is. Rachel is able to let go and move on, but her protective instincts for her friends take priority. Tina and Kurt shouldn't have to feel threatened in their element. Mr Schue seems to have a small breakdown in his minds as he implores to the one person who has been a voice of reason this year, the one student who may change the singer's mind.

"Quinn, what about you? What do you think?"

All eyes snap to the blonde and Quinn rolls her eyes. She thinks the Mr Schue has a flaw as a teacher if he deals with a situation like this by handing it over to a student. Her shoulders feel ten times heavier. The weight of the world is very little compared to the judgment and strong notions of the McKinley glee club. The pianist looks to _her_ constant variable, Rachel Berry. She doesn't _know_ what to do because there's more to this that meets the eye. Upon the gaze, the brunette sighs and she deflates a little. With a reassigned but understanding smile she lifts Quinn's hand to her lips. She lends her strength.

Only then is the softball captain finally able to ask. It not that she needs permission but she has enough perspective that, her relationship means more than being a good or helpful person to a lost individual. The blonde will be the worst version of herself to keep the singer. And she's able to acknowledge that she's extremely lucky _because_ she doesn't have to. Glancing at the redhead, her tone knows.

"What are you doing here?"

Kelsey shrugs emotionlessly, eyes empty.

"Mom found out…about softball, about quitting Cheerios."

Quinn nods at the situation. It sounds familiar. The glee club seems to take a collective gasp in remembrance and mention of Mary Edwards, whilst Santana just watches. The pianist shakes her head to herself and she loses herself in the memory of her father's cold eyes when she became someone else's daughter, someone else's problem. Only Rachel feels that trembles of her pale hands and instinctively she drags the sports captain to face her. She brings their faces close together whispering fragments of songs they've shared, tracing a pattern that they recognize and touching to communicate the thought, _not alone. _MrSchue can't quite believe his eyes, thinking that he's never seen such responsiveness before. Silence fills the room. Gradually, Mercedes, Puck and Kurt seem to understand the situation, feeling some sympathy, even for the redhead. When Quinn returns, her voice is rough from her old wounds.

"Where are you staying?"

"With Carina's. Your mom offered but…"

Kelsey looks pointedly at the diva.

"…It didn't seem smart."

There's another pregnant pause. The redhead feels like a criminal up for a parole hearing but then again she thinks she might be worse that any thief or vandal… She's broken people. Later, Kurt's voice is the first sound in ten minutes.

"I'm sorry about your mother. But you'll have to work to gain our trust."

And it's as close to a formal acceptance as she's ever going to get. The rest of the club seems to agree causing the music teacher to almost collapse in relief.

/

"Ok. Um. Quinn and Rachel I'm afraid I'm going to have to break you apart for this lesson. This piece requires a males lead, that means Finn, you're up."

Mr Schue ushers his students as he hands the football captain one half of the script and the diva the other, expecting to them to begin. There's a nervous energy in the air because this would be the first time since prom that the girls weren't paired up. Rachel presses a kiss to her girlfriend's cheek before standing. Whilst she's close she'll also hold Quinn's gaze making sure of two things. The first is that the pianist didn't mind. The second was to communicate that she would return to her. The blonde smiles, releasing tan hands. Those are concessions and reassurances that Rachel doesn't have to make, but she does, because nothing about their relationship was minimum effort. They _were always _going to commit themselves to the act, which would bring about the happy expressions, bright eyes and an overwhelming sense of care. Most days, they think it is love. Finn for the most part seems nervous. The rest of the group begins to pair up, as the leads get ready. Kelsey is left with Quinn.

It's almost a slap to the face when Mr Schue announces that the duo would be singing Adele's 'To make you feel my love.' A blonde head whips up and similarly a par of brown eyes widen. Memories of their first date come rushing back. There's nothing but good feelings in the memories but it's not enough to stop the creeping sense of apprehension. Rachel closes her eyes remembering, her vocal training. Mentally, she apologizes for what she's about to do. The brunette looks at Finn and tries to bring back old feelings to aid with her performance. She can feel hazel-green eyes and their penetrating focus in her direction. Quinn rubs her neck; she counts to ten, controlling her breathing. She recalls how the diva felt in her arms that day and the secrets they've shared since. She thinks that this will be fine and that she can handle this. The opening chords start. _Finn_ starts.

When the rain is blowing in your face

And the whole world is on you case

I could offer you a warm embrace

To make you feel my love

The footballer passionately circles the diva. Jokingly, he'll place his arms around her in conjunction with the second last lines, swaying a little. The goofy and playful action causes Rachel to grin. There's a clear and naked manner in which the words and terms tumble out of his mouth, it becomes an advantage for him that he's perfectly simple. It's obvious; he is still in love with her. And under the weight of that, the brunette becomes suspended. She doesn't automatically jump away. It's the first thing that makes it to Quinn's mind as she watches, her frame tensing a little. She repeats to herself that it's just residual emotions, as something stirs inside her. Santana narrows her eyes; she can't help but know that this was going to end badly as Rachel's voice comes in.

When the evening shadows and the stars appear

And there's no one there to dry your tears

I could hold you for a million years

To make you feel my love

The diva is a performer and naturally she'll do her best. Throughout her verse, pretending to be like a young girl _actually in love, _she'll leave light touches and teasing glances. Towards the end, she'll even lean close to kiss the boy on the cheek. It's utterly innocent and solely for authenticity and theatrical purposes but that's _not _the case for two people. Finn blushes like a schoolboy, eyes glazing over as his hand goes to touch the contacted area. Quinn grips the sides of her chair, there's an ugly side to her that becomes harder and harder to control. She's mistaken. She _can't_ handle this. And it's not because she's doubts her girlfriend. It's _because_ she's shown that Rachel's relationship with the footballer_ wasn't_ a terrible one. There _were _emotions between the two and a feint capacity for a happy ending. That's the driving force behind the threatening feeling that the pianist experiences. Pressure builds behind her carefully imposed damn of self-control.

Two chairs away, Santana prays that the inevitable won't happen. She recognizes the signs, Quinn's subtle clenching of the jaws, the energy coiled frame and the slight manic gleam. When the blonde was threatened she would lash out, manipulate or change the playing field. The Latina understands that _they _have a maladaptive form of coping to losses in control or confidence. They _had_ to be the alpha figure. Whilst they rarely felt insecure, the feelings intensified ten-fold when they did. Santana recalls when the pianist had worried about losing Finn, she would order more slushies on the diva, and she would orchestrate a situation get the boy to grovel. Anything to get the upper hand because trusting someone else with her happiness wasn't an option.

And although, the pianist _had_ been getting better, it wasn't fast enough, not for the situation right now. So when Rachel and Finn _actually_ have decent chemistry and look like they _could_ be a couple, it's painful to watch. The blonde's eyes would twitch _once_, before the moment when the worst version of her appeared. Brittany almost cries because the Quinn that loves Rachy does not want to do this, but the Quinn that was borne from Russell and the high school hierarchy, _would_ do something devastating. The tall dancer knows that it has nothing to do with her captain's feelings for the brunette but instinctive reflexes to uncertainty.

It starts small. The pianist begins to whisper to the redhead next to her. They consist of small useless bits of conversation that doesn't really need to be communicated _an inch_ from someone's ear. So, to everyone in the background, it looks like something else entirely. In line with each move the leads make on stage the Quinn would lean close again, maybe this time releasing a chuckle at Kelsey's responses. When Finn kissed Rachel hand and twirled her, the blonde would speak more animatedly. When the diva _genuinely_ smiles at a gesture by the footballer, the softball captain will actually turn her whole body away to talk to the newest member of New Directions. The breaking point was when she picked a stray piece of lint out of Kelsey's hair, because there's an odd sense of intimacy to it. The singer just happens to turn her head in time to catch it and despair fills her face.

She misses her next cue and Mr Schue's subsequent prompts, staring at her girlfriend and the redhead. Eventually she won't be able to stand the sight trying to shake the tears from her eyes as she runs out. It's then that the pianist is able to stop, and it _finally hits her. _Rachel's sadness finds a way to shake her Quinn back; it pierces though the blonde's haze giving her the energy to shut down that self-destructive part of her personality _for good_. Almost like a file deletion,the softball captain finds that the cruel voice is _completely _gone, and no longer a lingering trace. Things feel calmer and she's feels as if she has finally arrived. But it's too late; Kurt runs out after the brunette, giving her a pointed look. The lucidity that she now possessed _punishes, _becauseit's with absolute and sickening clarity that she realizes the consequences of her actions. Her body begins to shake and she can't believe that she let herself hurt the singer. There's nothing to stop the guilt, there's nothing to stop the painful sounds of two hearts cracking.

Thwack. Santana's hand makes contact with the back of her captain's head. The people in the room freeze and Finn shuffles awkwardly by the door. Part of the footballer wants to make sure that the singer is all right, but he also understands that it's not his place anymore. Now his role is to make sure that the right person does. The Latina's voice sound rough and cuts through harsh struggled breathing.

"That was stupid, Q."

What can be said, really? The pianist looks forlornly at her hands. She can't quite believe her actions still. Instead she says what she can.

"I _know."_

"Fix it."

The command slips out. The Latina stands straighter because she knows she's right. Quinn's mouth opens and closes. It's the most ungraceful she's ever been, the picture completed but hectic hair and red eyes.

"I- I can't."

"Bullshit… Give me your keys."

Mindlessly, the pianist does what she's told. She figures that letting someone else dictate her actions might be prudent. Considering her own thoughts and mind has made a mess of things. It's one that, a part of her doesn't want to fix because it _can't _happen again. Rachel is only so strong before she breaks and she should have to keep forgiveness on speed dial. Nevertheless those thoughts are thrown out with Santana's nest words.

"I'll drive you to Berry's home before she gets her dad to kill you with a scalpel."

And the Latina leaves a gap of time for the blonde to respond. She gives her an out that she knows her friend won't actually take when push comes to shove. She is far to deep in this but Santana feels an obligation to make sure anyway. Brittany gives their friend a hug. The trio leaves the room. Along the way, they have separate thoughts leading to the same conclusion. Quinn and Rachel could fix this if they try and if they _want. _The tall dancer thinks that the pianist just needs to be honest like how Lord Tubbington about his guilt chocolate covered pleasures. Santana thinks that there are a few things that the diva needs to learn about her girlfriend before they can proceed. It'll only make them stronger.

Quinn thinks that they're both still hiding and holding on to old beliefs and secret worries. She won't let them stop this; it won't be their breaking point.

/

In the choir room, the glee kids filter out. Kelsey gets her belongings but she's assisted by a tall footballer. He has a stern look on his face as his forehead scrunches and facial features attempt to scowl. It's more funny than threatening but the message is clear. She pauses, really actually taking the time to look. Finn isn't what she expects. Dumb? Most _definitely._ But he wasn't a jerk. Bad guys would have taken advantage of the crying diva that they were still hopelessly infatuated with. Bad guys didn't try to look menacing on their ex's behalf. They didn't care as much as he obviously did. So no, he wasn't a _bad guy._ He hands her things as he speaks

"Kelsey, Rachel and Quinn are together. What you did today wasn't cool."

The redhead sighs.

"Contrary to public opinion, I'm not out to get the golden gay couple. Quinn… she made that mess today all by herself."

The tall girl attempts to leave but the giant footballer blocks her way. Aggravation bubbles up when he shakes his head and continues to speak.

"She wouldn't have if you – "

Soft lips pressed against his to interrupt Finn. It's chaste, but has a strange effect in him. He is by no means falling for the girl or molester? But, there _is_ something different that changes inside. For a second, he forgets to be heartbroken over the diva, it's the first reprieve he's had in weeks. And Kelsey's eyes glitter with mirth. She chuckles at his wide eyes and blushing cheeks.

"So that's what it takes to shut you up huh?"

With that the redhead walks away.

/

Outside a certain house, Quinn knocks her fist repeatedly on the wood. It's loud and soon she's pretty sure that the whole neighborhood will come out but she won't stop. Rachel can't ignore her forever. Sooner rather than later, the door opens. The pianist is about to apologize before she realizes that it's not the diva. No, it's the towering frowning African-American father. For the first time, the blonde is able to see him as intimidating and her stomach drops. The magnitude of her mistakes hit her again. And the words she says are not flowery of defensive just _true. _

"I'm sorry."

"It's not me that you need to apologize to, Quinn."

Leroy responds, never once showing any signs of welcome. He has his arms crossed as he remembers the tearstained face of his daughter this afternoon. The ex-cheerleader takes a sharp breath. Her vision begins to blur and she's sure that she's actually shaking. But she doesn't walk or run away and the father _does_ have to credit her for that. He's sure that she's done something hurtful and he's also certain that she regrets it like nothing else in her young life. Tiny differences in her character stand out, as he tries but fails to find the last vestiges of the _popular_ child, that cruel instinct. The father can't help but wonder how she was able to get rid of it because it had taken him several _years_. However, the whimpers coming from the living room gives him an inkling. And all he can do is sigh and step aside. He trusts the pianist with his daughter _one more time. _

Rachel is curled up on the large sofa with puffy eyes and a box of tissues. Quinn can't help but think that she still looks beautiful. Memories of quiet afternoons spent watching and re-watching Funny Girl, Moulin Rouge and Phantom of the Opera cross her mind. She recalls how the singer felt in her arms as her fingers trace the fabric of the seating. In the present, the diva seems to be in a state of shock as the pianist continues to stand in front of her as if that was where she was supposed to be all along. Rachel shakes her head; she's weak because without her command she somehow ends up in the blonde's arms. Softs hints of lilac and freshly washed clothing soothes her like nothing else and she speaks into it.

"I can't believe Kelsey. What was she thinking?"

It's an easy exit from this mess. The pianist shakes her head internally as the pressure builds behind her eyes. The way her throat suddenly constricts makes it hard to breath. After the events, the singer _still_ wants to see the best side of her, _to paint someone else as the villain._ The diva wants to blame it on someone else, so that this relationship can continue untainted, because, under the truth, happiness becomes harder to find. Rachel's ready to lie to both of them to make it happen. And the softball player aches as she realizes that she can't let this happen. The brunette wouldn't be able to sleep through the night; the dishonesty of her actions would haunt her. Quinn clenches her jaw. No, she'll take responsibility for her acts.

"You know it's not her fault. Rachel, I did _this_ today. _I_ made you cry."

The admission barely makes it through, because the ex-cheerleader is shoved roughly away. Once she able to stabilize herself from the backwards stumble, the shorter girl takes a second step, pushing again. Her eyes are filled with fresh frustration.

"What is it about this girl Quinn? What is it about her that makes you come to her defense, _every time_?"

The question sounds slightly defeated towards the end. One of her trembling hands is placed on the blonde's chest, where her heart should be. The warmth from the tan limb permeates through the light blue fabric of the blouse, electrically waking every sensory neuron in that area. Thump. Thump. Thump. Steady heartbeats speed up. And the singer is slightly in awe of the immediate and very strong response. Before she can move back in confusion, pale hands encircles hers, keeping it there, pressed harder. She'll be able to feel everything from the shallow breathing to the rushing blood. Hazel green eyes hold brown ones with an open intensity. Quinn whispers because it's only them in the moment right now.

"Nothing. God I promise you that. It's just…I know her mother and I've been there. We can talk to each other because of that."

The diva closes her eyes. A tear slides down her cheek. And the blonde is torn between wiping it away or simply watching, as it leaves a trail. It's a reminder of her stupidity.

"Why did you do it, Quinn? Have I really been such a horrible girlfriend? Did you want to hurt –"

Something in the pianist snaps at the singer's guilt ridden tone. She's sees a lack of confidence and a withered sense of self-esteem in Rachel. The blonde loses the multitude of small qualities that makes her day-to-day existence brighter. Suddenly, Quinn's thoughts rearrange themselves with a strange sort of purpose. There's only one path to take. Maybe the truth could cleanse their souls and wash the sting from their past actions. Her confession is a jumbled stream.

"Jealous! I got jealous, ok?"

There's a pause as the diva looks up in disbelief.

"_What?"_

Quinn lets go of the shorter girl. She tries to get some distance because she's never had to explain this out loud before. To admit one's greatest flaw, it's not easy. But then again, nobody has ever been so important. When she's able, she kneels in front of the brunette sitting on the couch, who doesn't rush anything. The singer is able to see the softball player's struggle and not matter how many times she tries, her traitorous self, refuses to make the moment more difficult for the pianist. The taller girl tries to communicate.

"I can't actually help it. It's stupid, impulsive and… _not_ really an excuse. But you're able to bring out the _best_ and the most ugly part of me. Rachel, that HBIC, you knew from freshman year, she's still in here, or was…I don't know anymore."

There were problems with being placed on a pedestal. The most important was that one could never really measure up. And perhaps the blonde wasn't alone in making a mistake, today. Perhaps the diva had closed her mind to Quinn's biggest flaw, because since this _thing _started between them, she's been protected from it. Her minds plays back, and for the first time she notices the ever present tug of war that always occurs in the pianist during a power play situation. Last week, somebody had attacked the ex-cheerleader for the couple's random acts of romanticism. Rachel remembers persuading her girlfriend to let it go. She _also_ recalls overlooking the fact that it might have been a hard thing for Quinn to do, because it _wasn't_ intuitive. Looking up, brown eyes take a long look, taking in _everything_, faults and all… She can't help but think that she still captivated by what she sees.

The blonde catalogues the small changes in the diva's features, pushing on.

"So when I saw you and Finn today, a million things hit my mind. I started to feel out of control and I think the only thing that was going through my mind was proving that I could have an effect on you too. That, I could make you lose your composure. I was _angry._ I was _jealous_ and it was _hard_ to handle."

Rachel whispers.

"I _don't_ care about Finn."

Quinn smiles despondently.

"He still loves you, but I think even you could see that…"

There's a gap. In their minds, they confront the truth and the host of feelings it brings. For Rachel, none of her warm notions towards the footballer makes a dent in her passion for the blonde. For Quinn, she recognizes the pettiness of her insecurities and heartbreaking discovery that if the diva asked, she would step back. So, the pianist offers another possible ending to this story. The misconception of fairytales is that relationships are straightforward and you would only have one prince. The taller girl never wants the diva to feel like she couldn't choose.

"You could be happy around him."

"Just stop, Quinn. I _don't_ care. Don't you get it? Finn isn't the problem and to some extent, neither is Kelsey.

I found out today that you could actually hurt me and I don't know if I can trust you not to do that in the future."

With that, honesty becomes a two way street. And they get to the crux of the matter, the reason why they can't breath, and the reason why it hurts so much. Rachel shakes her head to herself as she speaks.

"I'm not a gambler. I won't even play blackjack with my fathers."

The blonde clasps the diva's loose hands. She whispers into them.

"I'm sorry, Rachel."

The words have been said too many times by both girls this week. But it never loses meaning, not even once, because they always mean it. Rachel smiles sadly.

"I know… but Quinn, you turn every head when you walk past. People stare as you walk into the room. They _can't_, not… I'm not that girl who can do all that."

The softball player grips tighter. She knows that one day the brunette won't doubt her attractiveness around others. She knows that one day the diva will grow to be as confident in skin as she is in her musical talents. Quinn only wants to be next to her when she does. She wants to help the singer get there because in that moment, Rachel will be beautiful in that untouchable way. So for now she sows the seeds, doing what she can.

"You are, Rachel. _You,_ just the way you are, _right here_, is enough to keep everyone's attention. When you're close, when you sing, people _do stop_ in their tracks."

A sharp intake of air as the diva looks up into the blonde's eyes.

"Then why couldn't I be enough? Why did you have to make me cry to feel safe?"

And the pianist doesn't have a _good enough _answer. She can try to point out time after time that it's not the diva's fault but it won't sink in. They're far too emotional to grasp the concept of logic, not to mention that around each other, their thoughts seems to jump into a game of Russian roulette, playing unexpected moves. Normally, it keeps them excited and on their toes. It makes them more aware and more responsive each other's desires, elevating their happiness. Today, it works against them. And the only thing that is important is the question in the blonde's head.

"…Are we breaking up?"

Her tone sounds broken. As tears come with disturbing force and the air begins to thin, nobody can accuse her of not feeling anything. Rachel leans close. Forlorn, her hand cups Quinn's pale jaw. It sends a current, rousing the pianist from her haunches. It reminds her to fight because there's still a few things that she hasn't said in an effort to protect herself from total heartbreak. Her eyes burn with determination and care. And she's moves closer, speaks stronger.

"Because Rachel, you're not the only one that needs this. I'm so deep in this relationship, _trying_ to keep my head above the water. But I do, because you're _more_ than I thought I could have and I _want_ to be that person for you…"

The singer feels anger and resistance melting away. Quinn whispers her request.

"Please don't break me."

"What? No. I wouldn't do that."

Rachel flinches at the words, _at the idea_. She doesn't have the capacity. She feels overwhelmed. It's their first fight and unlike most, it carries more weight and meaning. The girls move past the honeymoon phase and learn to offer _everything _they have. They learn more in a week than others do in years. The diva thinks about all the things swirling within her. But there's one feeling that overshadows the rest. Warm. Calming. Exhilarating. It seems familiar, but she's never felt it to such a degree before.

"Don't you get it? Hasn't this week taught you anything at all? I. _Love._ You, Quinn."

The blurted statement hangs in the air. Hazel-green eyes widen. Minds are wiped clean as all thought processes center on three words. The blonde seems frozen and with each moment that she _doesn't speak, _Rachel's happiness drops a little more. Finally, after several minutes, the pianist speaks.

"We need to talk through this."

It's not the right response because the singer is slightly angry, as she turns herself away.

"No Quinn. For once we don't. I'm done talking. I just said I love you and you didn't say it back."

"Because you're angry and you don't mean it."

The reply comes out instantly and the blonde grabs the diva's hand just in time. In her full height she looks down at the singer. The uncertainty that burns in her eyes covers a strong desire to reciprocate the words, the sentiment. It scares her because she can't understand it, instead trying her damnedest to stamp it down. There's a minor hysterical element to her tone.

"You _don't_ mean it. You _can't. _It's only been a month. And a second ago we were fighting and yelling…_"_

Gradually, her voice loses steam and become a little lost towards the end. Her mind seems to rebel with the denial. Rachel leans close, gathering the softball player's attention, muttering with force.

"You're wrong Quinn. It's been a year. _You_ started this at Nationals in New York…"

With that, she pulls her hand out of the blonde's grasp and storms out the door. Seconds later, Quinn will do the same heading in the other direction. Fear drives her actions as the singer's confession repeats. Leroy watches from another room with his face in his hands. Again, their problem isn't a lack of attachment but its strength and depth. So much so, that one of them is running scared.

/

Outside, Brittany and Santana are cuddled together on a nearby bus bench. They had decided to stay, hoping that their friends would make it out alive. By now the sky has darkened as evening settled in. in the middle of their conversation they notice a tear filled and frustrated brunette running out. Bewildered the couple look at each other with confusion and concern. Seconds later, a slam of the door alerted them to Quinn's exit followed by a violent breakdown. Their captain throws her palm against the hood of her car repeatedly. The Latina winces at the sound. Holding the dancer's hand, they watch the blonde entering the vehicle. For a second longer they stare before coming to a simultaneous understanding of the probable events that had transpired. Rock, paper, scissors.

Santana groans, rolling her eyes when she sees the results. With a tired attitude she gives her girl a hug, whispering the offer a night out in the town, after all this is over.

"Berry! Freaking wait a second."

/

"Quinn."

Brittany calls as she latches onto the passenger door, sliding into the car. In surprise, the pianist looks up. For a moment, all the dancer thinks is that her friend looks so confused and frightened. She wonders why because Rachy wasn't scary. Tiredly, hazel-green eyes will meet sky blues. The fight in Quinn seems to dissipate a little as she falls back into the driver's seat.

"What do you want Brittany? I'm not really in the mood to deal with anything right now."

"Santana says to stay with you to make sure you don't crash your car or do anything stupid."

The answer slips out easily and innocently. As if the tall blonde doesn't realize the weight of the situation because it would actually be considered a legitimate concern. Quinn sighs. She's happy that it's Brittany in the car right now because she needs the kind emotional direction. Her own personal compass is spinning every which way as three words act as the magnet. Rachel's voice echoes, _I love you. _And the pianist seems to be void of responses. There's a feeling that tugs her mind and she _wants_ to chase after her girlfriend and whisper what they both need. But every time she thinks about it her throat constricts. She falls back on the small voice, which offers a possible escape. It's _too soon. _

_Too bad she also sure that it's not true. _Closing her eyes and takes a breath; she thinks she can't deal with this. The starting the rumbling engine ignition sounds, the pianist speaks the quiet instruction.

"Put your seat belt on."

Brittany does. And they start to drive, past the small suburban street and turning at the roundabout.

"Why aren't you with Rachy right now?"

The question breaks the silence. Quinn opens her mouth to speak but nothing comes out. Instead her grip on the wheel tightens as the car comes to a stop in front of red traffic lights. Enlightenment comes in flashes, in and out. Like an old black and white movie, memories are replayed. It starts small. She sees the singer's quirks, the focused furrow of the brow and crinkled forehead. She _hears _the way Rachel's breath hitches when they're alone and how the diva is prone to streams of verbal consciousness. A smile appears on the pianist's features, gritting her teeth and being scared becomes less important. The little things transition to bigger things and the diva's powerful performances come to the center-stage. The captain's mind likes to fixate on the passion, surety and apparent love in those warm browns.

Brittany looks out the window, it's all the privacy she's able to give in such closed quarters. But she can imagine her friend's expression as all her emotions bleed together to create something rare unique. Quinn can't fight against the strange feeling that fills every crevice, securing her to the ground, to the diva. The world _feels_ different. It might be too soon and the singer _did mean it. _The realization comes fast but it doesn't shake any foundations because parts of her already knew. This_ is_ love. Probability, one hundred percent…

And, _she swerves_, doing a 180 turn. Brittany watches the time on the dashboard, 7:03pm. In less than ten minutes, Quinn is back at the diva's door, with determination and fresh eyes. _She didn't even make it around the block in her car._ It's an indication that she would never be able to walk away, not without help. For the second time today, she knocks frantically on the Berry's door.

With understanding the Leroy lets her in. Rachel isn't back yet but Quinn is free to wait. They settle in for the long haul.

/

"You know she's not what you think. When Rachel says I love you, she's not trying to make you feel better."

Leroy says as he pours the blonde a cup of water. She's just a little drained from the events. Quinn shakes her head slightly. Her fingers play a tune on the dinner table. Her voice is thick with undisguised emotion.

"Rachel's exactly what I think. I just didn't treat her as such. She means what she said, I know that."

Pause. Leroy tilts his head, gauging the truth. He comes to the decision that the blonde does seem to understand his daughter. She seems to love Rachel too but thoughts dance around in her mind. The father knows that she's visiting various thought, worries and what ifs. But the fact that she's sitting in his living room, tells him that_ in the end_, those will just disappear the moment Rachel walks though the door. Quinn's already made a decision to _love..._

The things that she probably wonders about is the few others that the diva has said those same three words to. And the African American can concede that the singer has cared about one other person that way, _Finn. _At _that_ time and that age, the feelings that were surging through her could be considered as _love. _But hindsight is twenty-twenty. If they ever did compare in the present, it wouldn't be a contest. There are two sorts. The first is the one that you can move on from, opening your eyes to notion that such a bond with another person is possible. And then there's the one that you'll forever be tied to, stealing the air from your heart and the blood from your veins without even trying. Between the footballer and the softball player, nobody needs to say which is which. Leroy takes the seat next to the pianist.

"So what is it about the word that scares you so much? Is it the meaning itself? Or is it being able to say it to another person?"

Quinn sighs, rubbing the tension from her face. Her dysfunction is difficult to explain.

"I don't know option A? B? All of the above?"

"Well, you don't have to say it just because Rachel did. It's all right. I think that she just wanted you to know. Hiram is the same way. But, if you do happen to feel the same and vocalizing it is hard, then writing it down, putting it to songs and in gestures, it works just as well…"

Leroy leaves the blonde with that answer going up to his room. Somehow it's obvious that the girls will make things right.

So when the father is gone Quinn looks around. She sees a stack of lined paper on the kitchen cabinet and _reaches for them. _It is her longest night; combinations of words filter out until they become are able to capture her meaning, her wants and her _feelings_…

/

The girls have different experiences, different things to work through. When Rachel walked out, a frustrated Latina kept up with her.

"Berry, dammit wait!"

The diva raised her eyebrow, retorting tersely. Quinn's lack of response surrounds her thoughts. Behind the shock on the pale features, there was hope and _something _until it was shut down by denial. Rachel hates the disbelief in the pianist's tone at her confession; it's like a blow to her stomach. She's also angry with herself because the moment wasn't how she dreamed it, over candlelight and delicious food. But would it have made a difference?

"Go away Santana."

"Uh, let me think about that… No, nope, not gonna happen. God for being midget sized you're fast."

The Latina's sarcastic voice pops out. She's breathing faster from the exertion. The singer takes the scene in. Santana Lopez stood in front of her, breathless from chasing one Rachel Berry. She has to ask.

"Why are you here? We've never been good friends."

Her head tilts. There's a part of her that can't help it, the desire to be liked and accepted. After the blowout in her home she needs just a little reassurance, maybe in the form of a friend. Santana groans internally. She'll never admit it but, over the course of glee and extended time due to Quinn, she's become more than tolerant of the diva. And she doesn't want her to be hurt. So an uncharacteristic thing happens. She swallows the reflex to reject the brunette and replaces it with something softer, almost _caring._

"It's getting dark. And you shouldn't be alone when you're all Berry-like."

It's hard and easy at the same time. The censorship of her callous self is like trying to rein in a psychotic child in a candy store but the reminder of whom it's for and why she's behaving as such helps the process along. And Santana gets it. Quinn does this _every day, _chipping away at the block on her emotions_, to be deep and open, in the relationship… _It must be love, or something stronger.

"Fine, but we don't speak."

Rachel responds gratefully. They do. It's a nice quiet walk to the park and Santana pushes a few keys before slipping her phone away.

/

Santana and Rachel eventually make to the park. Kelsey stands in the center of the playground, waiting. When she sees them, her voice is soft and non-threatening.

"Hi Rachel."

The singer ignores her, whirling around towards the Latina with a silent question in her eyes. She feels betrayed. But Santana for the most part stays resolute. If she wants to comfort the shorter girl or reassure her, it is now locked away because they're in front of others. She repeats the same comment she made the first time, at the start of the week.

"Listen before you judge, Berry."

With that and pointed warning to the redhead she turns and walks away, wondering if this is the correct decision. As enough time passes she becomes more and more sure, because if Quinn can't make Rachel understand, Kelsey will have to. The Latina never wants the diva to ever have the displeasure of meeting Russell Fabray, but it would reveal everything the pianist still seems to want to protect her from. The redhead might be the next best means of explaining.

Back at the park, the singer twists her features.

"What are you doing here?"

There's a moment where the girls just stare each other down. Kelsey eventually holds up her cell phone, displaying a short text message.

"_Mini Q, get your ass to the park and fix this mess – Santana"_

Rachel rolls her eyes. She makes a mental note to yell at the Latina later. For now, she just replies stubbornly.

"I don't want to talk to you about Quinn."

The redhead shakes her head, climbing to the top of the monkey bars. Part of her questions why she's doing this. Rachel would never be receptive. But as insecurity and a series of other emotions cross the diva's features, the newest glee member remembers, to be real, to feel like somebody. She recalls the perfect ease with which the brunette and Quinn operate, _together_. It was a representation of the things that were possible if you were open and if you care enough.

"Fine, then let's talk about you, Little Miss Broadway. Kurt is your friend right?"

Rachel huffs with annoyance.

"Yes."

But Kelsey continues without a care. Her tone exuded confidence and logic. It forces the diva to listen. She seems so certain. And in many ways, she is. As a third party she sees everything with a strange sense of clarity, the various paths that can be taken and how the girls could and probably _would _end up in each other's arms. They were bullheaded enough to force their way to happiness, as long as they avoided the shiny trinkets, quicksand and false steps along the way. The redhead flips down so that they're face to face.

"You're both really close. I've heard the jokes, my hag and me. And from what I've seen, to any stranger, you behaviour around each other _could be_ misconstrued for romance."

"He's gay."

Rachel responds with disbelief. The slightest notion was ridiculous and the image of herself being paired up with anyone other the pianist makes her stomach turn. The redhead chuckles at the exaggerated expressions. She gingerly and very cautiously takes a seat next to the singer, playing with a fallen twig.

"I _know_ but what I mean, is that even when you're bickering with each other or competing for the same solo, there's still some kind of link there. It's easy to talk to each other because you both have verbose personality quirks and Broadway dreams to look forward to."

"So, what's you point?"

The diva asks feeling the stirrings of doubt. The points are hard to argue against, pure in their reason. Try as she might, she can't identify any trap or ulterior motives behind the statement. Once, the concept sinks in, Kelsey speaks again, getting to the turning point. She'll explain her history, clearing some gray areas about the pianist. The redhead can appreciate the desire to keep one's broken household locked away, because it's a ridiculously pitiful story. And with someone that feels as much as the brunette _evidently does_, it would just cause a lot of pain. Rachel Berry would cry and feel angry and helpless due to the situation… Still, it's something that she needs to know.

"Quinn had Russell. I had my mom. They're unaccepting and as vain as people come. Your family time consists of bonding? Ours consists of lording our achievements and wealth. We would talk about the events of the day, only to be reminded of how it could always be improved. Russell and Mary's continued support was contingent on positive results. So Quinn and I? That's something we can talk about to each other about."

The singer looks up. She lets go of her initial dislike for the redhead and sees someone trying to help. As a result she lets herself process the information. Pain blossoms in her heart as she imagined the scenario. It wasn't fair. Being kicked out and constantly berated, the blonde had seemed to take it in stride. Suddenly, some of Quinn's actions and traits are explained. Rachel understands her girlfriend enough to grasp that the holding back was done in a desire to protect, not hide or deceive. Kelsey asks her question.

"Rachel, that's all it is,_ a common ground _that makes understanding easier_. So _why is it acceptable for you to have Kurt but for it to be _so bad _that you girlfriend even speaks to me."

"Kurt is _gay."_

Rachel responds simply, causing a snort to come from the redhead.

"Would it seriously make you feel better if I told you that I was straight? Believe me I have no interest in the fairer sex."

Kelsey chuckles in amusement before returning to the task at hand.

"What Quinn did today, don't wreck what you have based on it. Granted she freaked out, going all HBIC and Fabray-like again. But next to you _she's different_, a better person. Until today, she's always had a worse side, old demons I guess. Honestly, I think hurting you was the thing that managed to drive it out of her. It's so depressing, Shakespeare would have a field day with you two."

The sincerity in the comment brings a smile to both their lips. Rachel breaks into a soft laugh. She recognizes the fact that Kelsey isn't a terrible person, just as misguided as the rest of them. Surprisingly, the singer feels comfortable enough to share a little. Sometimes it's easier to talk to a stranger.

"Then why couldn't she say I love you back?"

"You told her that?"

Kelsey asked with shock. It was fast to be sure and she can only imagine the reception that would have ensued in the pianist's mind. Rachel nods her head, _proud. _She _doesn't_ regret it. _She _was simply being_ honest._ You couldn't tell her otherwise. At least the blonde would always know, she would never be _alone_.

"Good for you."

The redhead replies. She's impressed and decided to answer the question, making rude gestures to some unknown entity.

"It means that Russell is a grade one basta – "

"Kelsey!"

The admonishment slips out automatically at the expletive. The redhead stops as to say _really? _When she gets nothing but a serious look in response, she tries a different tack.

"Ok, let's look at this objectivity. Everyone Quinn has ever said those words to, have probably left her. Her father disowned her. Finn cheated with you, maybe not physically, but emotionally he did. And then there's Puck, I'm going to guess the Quinn told herself that she could maybe love him. But he then proceeds to sleep with every cheerleader on this side of the hemisphere."

Kelsey explains offhandedly, she'll turn to the diva for the important part.

"It's not personal Berry. She doesn't say it because she either doesn't trust in the concept or doesn't trust in herself to say it anymore. Maybe she's even forgotten how to..."

There's a nice lull in the conversation. Kelsey continues to fiddle with leaves and twigs and Rachel closes her eyes. It's almost as if she's gone through the pianist's entire life in a couple of hours. She feels a sliver of guilt thinking about the pressure that her confession might have caused but still thinks that it was important to say out loud. Now, on the park bench, she makes the resolve to assure the softball player that there was no immediate need to respond in kind. Kelsey voices out next to her.

"She does, you know? Quinn loves you."

"I know."

The singer _does. _It's in all their interactions. The redhead stands, dusting the dirt of her clothing. She feels as if her part was done. That the girls will end up together now, because they've gotten to know the bad parts of each other, Rachel's insecurities and Quinn's darker side. Kelsey waits for the diva to get up as well.

"C'mon I'll walk you home, otherwise Santana may bludgeon me to death tomorrow morning."

They walk side by side and the brunette offers her friendship.

"I'm sorry about you being kicked out as well."

Kelsey feels a wave of positive emotions welling up as tears sting her eyes. She's grateful for the opportunity.

"At least I got an hour, it's better than Quinn's raw deal."

Rachel flinches, disgusted by the idea. How do you pack up your life in and hour or less?

"Are you all right?"

The redhead smiles at the concern. Having a friend feels nice.

"I will be. I joined the softball team because the two of you together sends some kind of message. That positive change is possible I guess."

/

It's late when the singer gets home, almost midnight actually. The lights inside the house are out except for one, on the kitchen table. Taking a step closer, Rachel notices a blonde head asleep on the table, sheet of paper and pen clutched in hand. Soft snores fill the room. Quinn's chair is positioned in an angle that would have allowed her a direct line of sight to the door, vigilantly guarding. The softball player had waited till her eyes wouldn't stay open anymore and even after Leroy and Hiram had retired to bed. She would always do so. And Rachel melts at the sight. Her heart beat faster as her hand covers her lips in surprise. The pianist looks angelic, the soft movement in her back indicating a steady line of breathing. Stray blonde locks fall over her eyes. She must have waited _hours._

Moving closer, the diva will notice a collection of balled up paper surrounding the bin, probably thrown in frustration. Her curiosity causes her to pick one up, reading the neat scrawl.

_- Rachel, I'm sorry. You mean everything to me. I lik– Damn it!_

And it snowballs. Rachel straightens the sheets one after the other, as the words get closer to saying _something. _

_- You make me feel so many things. I don't have to think so hard, worry as much when you're around. It's never going to be enough. I'll do whatever you want and I can be everything you need. You can – garargh._

_- I wish I could just tell you. I wish – stupid, stupid, stupid, c'mon Quinn just say it! _

_- I think I might lo – god why is this so hard?_

The brunette can picture the annoyance and aggravation behind each crossed out line and tear in the paper. It's the effort buried inside the attempts, which causes her to collapse on her knees. Just when her feelings for the pianist couldn't get any deeper or intrinsic, it _does._ On wobbly legs she stumbles to where Quinn is. As she brushes the blonde strands away from the sleeping ex-cheerleader's eyes, she can't help but feel that it's exactly where she needs to be. The supposed botched confessions, she holds onto because they didn't actually _fail _or disappoint. It tells her more than she asked for. A brilliant smile stretches across her features, and happy tears fall. She leans down placing a lingering kiss on Quinn's upturned cheek. In her dreams, the softball player lets out a huff of breath, her tension dissipates and the corners of her lips tug upwards. The monsters were going away, she feels warm. In the present the movement directs Rachel's attention to the half covered sheet of paper.

With precision and extreme care, the brunette slides it out from under the taller girl's frame, reading the words.

Her surprised gasp fills the room.

_Rachel, I love you._

_And even if I can't say it out loud yet, I promise to do so someday soon. _

_So stay with me, talk to me, love me. _

_Wait for the day where I keep my promise. _

_I'll write the words until then. _

_I. Love. You._

The singer can barely function. The beauty of the pact encompasses her being. She knows that will. She'll stay with the blonde. She'll talk those pale ears off. Not a moment will pass, where she stops or tries to stifle her love for Quinn... Rachel Berry promises to wait for the day. Sitting in the chair beside the pianist she takes one of her hand, unwilling to go all the way upstairs to her bed and be _away_ from the softball player. Tick. Tick. Tick. It's not long, before the diva falls asleep next to her girlfriend, pale and tan fingers are interlaced.

/

The next morning when they wake up next to each other and in that _first minute_ of awareness where their eyes are still adjusting to the light, all they will comprehend is each other, _smiling_. A sweet kiss will play out, and as Hiram and Leroy come into the room they'll think to themselves how domestic the scene already seems. The smaller man will picture grandkids. The girls are all right with the ache in their muscles and the pink imprint on the side of their face because it was worth it. Every action now carries one more meaning…

_I love you._

Their mistake in reasoning gets corrected. They now accept that the world _can _touch what they have. But they're also convinced that it would have to work _awfully _hard against them for that to happen. Quinn and Rachel think that together they're strong _enough…_

_This time…they're right…_

/

Hmmm I wonder how many people still read fics now that glee's back. Quinn was badass but seriously I think that there's so much potential there with the way she stares at Rachel. But I guess the writers will never make it happen so I'll get back to writing mine ;)

But yeah, review if you wanna =D


	17. Chapter 17 Fairytales

**Chapter 17 – Fairytales**

Hi guys, hope you have all been well. I've gotten such great responses for this fic and thanks so much for that. I should warn you though for a while updates might be sparse, my university end of year exams are upon me and once again I have to retreat into a burrow to study. Rest assured, I fully intend to return with tons of chapters when I'm done =D Shout out time.

_BleedLikeMe – _I hope you managed to catch up on that sleep you missed. Thanks for sticking with it though, glad you like it.

_Phoebex13 – _No worries, fangirls are awesome ;D Santana is epic, I love her language. You're a Felsey/Kinn shipper now, are ya? I like them together, you'll see why soon.

_Ilive 2write – _Look forward to updates more than glee? Wow thanks that's a huge honor. I'll try not to disappoint.

_Jax319 – _The end will still be a while yet so you won't have to worry about crying for a good long time. =)

_Cali – _As usual, chat to you later! =D

/

Rachel sighed, stamping her foot in frustration. A disgruntled frown mars her features as her brows furrow in thought. Small tan hands trace the glass. The brunette stood in the middle of a quaint little jewelry store…realizing, that her girlfriend was impossible to shop for. Quinn's birthday was in a week. The singer had been making secret trips to the mall, every day for the last two weeks. She always returned empty-handed, unable to find what she was looking for. Objects either glittered too much or not enough. The diva was searching for perfect. She wanted to see the blonde's face light up, forgetting all the past disappointments. That became the goal, the moment the pianist revealed her low expectations of the day, shrugging off any celebrations. Like everything else in her life, Rachel Berry pursued it with dogged determination and Judy's support on speed dial.

Looking around, the singer realizes that there's something to be said about subtlety, she remembers Quinn's silent declarations and whispered notes of love. The ex-cheerleader kept her promise; Rachel has a cupboard full of paper scraps detailing three words. It's in that familiar neat writing, bringing smiles and warm feelings. The brilliance of her happy mood enthuses Brittany and annoys Santana. Still, as the Latina tries to snatch and read the content of those messages, she's softer and her eye-roll is kind. She gives the pianist a gruff nod; glad to see the storm is over. The only time she becomes ruffled is when Brittany and Rachel squeal in delight as they plan a double date. Quinn is useless because her indulgent expression and entranced eyes means that she'll agree to anything.

Rachel peers at the selections of necklaces, bracelets and earrings. As couples walk out with their anniversaries, engagements and promises, a stubborn internal voice states that extravagance has its merits as well. And _just like that_ she's back to square one. Her groan signals her surrender for the day. She makes her way to the food court, deciding that ice cream was in order to lift her spirits. Tomorrow would be a better day; after all she's designed an efficient new shopping plan, faster routes and only 25 shops to go.

"Rach?"

A familiar voice calls out from her left. Finn clumsily places his burger on the table to stand up awkwardly. Some of Quinn's social etiquette training had made it through. His cheeks redden as one of his hands scratches the back of his neck. Heartbeats become faster. The footballer still reacts like that around the diva. Thump. Thump. Thump. He still wants to be the one she sees the world in, but it's just not the case. Surprisingly, watching her with the pianist makes it easier to accept. It shows him that relationships shouldn't have to be a struggle to stay together. It also shows him that the singer _did_ care for him, just not to the same depth.

"Finn? What are you doing here? How are you?"

Rachel moves forward. There's an awkward moment where they don't know whether to hug or just leave it be. They eventually decide on an embrace, thinking that their reactions were silly and that after everything they still want to be friends. The brunette joins Finn at his table and he finally notices her tired and slightly defeated expression.

"What's up Rach? Why do you look like someone insulted the Streisand chick you like so much?"

Stuffing a chip into his mouth, he fails to notice the brunette's internal blanch. Barbara Streisand was not just some chick. However she does appreciate the concern. There's simplicity to the footballer's thoughts that can be relaxing. Rubbing her eyes, the singer releases a loud sigh.

"I'm having trouble finding Quinn's birthday present. For some reason, she's adamant about overlooking the significance of turning eighteen."

And it's true. At the mention of the day, the blonde just seems to shrug her shoulders and continue with her task. She smiles gently, placing a soft kiss and quickly turns serious on the diva's lips. Their tongues rub against each other, drawing small whimpers and complete weightlessness. Two things rescue them from suffocation due to inability to separate: ranging from Santana's well-aimed paper projectiles to the awkward coughing of a parent or teacher. It's more than enough to distract Rachel _in the moment,_ only to remember at the night, on her bed and wrapped in her girlfriend's lettermen. The singer vows to make the occasion special and to drive that sliver of sadness out of those hazel-greens. Finn leans back on his chair as he tries to recall.

"Uh, well Quinn always said not to worry about it when we were dating. When I asked about getting her something, she would get angry."

The footballer shrugs his shoulders looking lost. He wants to help but ashamedly he doesn't know how. There are a lot of things that he just didn't bother to learn. Rachel shakes her head seriously.

"Well she often says things she doesn't mean Finn. All girls do."

Almost instantly, Finn rebuts.

"You didn't. Rach, you would just tell me what you wanted."

For a moment, despite the busy shoppers running around, the two are thrown back to that scene in the truck during the stakeout. Rachel smiles sadly and Finn moves uncomfortably in his chair. He's worried that he may have overstepped his boundaries, revealing more than the singer wants to know, destroying their tentative friendship. The footballer has feelings for the brunette but it's no longer his place to broadcast them so he fiddles with the plastic wrapping to his food, asking a lame question.

"Girls are weird. Why do they do that?"

The singer thinks. Her response is sincere and carefully crafted for minimal pain.

"I don't know. But I think you keep hoping that you'll find the one person that will pick up on it, all the little signs and tells."

As the words filter out, the footballer _does_ notice how those brown eyes seem to glaze over and a wistful smile makes its way to tan features. She's not thinking about him and a few things become apparent. Around the brunette, Quinn Lucy Fabray is incapable of being protective about her feelings, because Rachel Berry seems to know exactly where she stands. The diva wears that sort of confidence that comes from being the center of somebody's world, their every thought, sense and feeling. Finn thinks about the way the two girls catch each other's gaze, so intuitively.

"Rach…You really care about Quinn don't you?"

The question shifts the diva out of her thoughts. She has a sad expression, wringing her hands.

"I don't want to hurt you Finn."

The footballer closes his eyes. It's an answer in itself, but he still needs to hear it and maybe, just maybe she need to tell him as well. There was still something that hindered their interactions and it was time to jump over it,

"Just be honest. It's ok."

The singer nods. Breaths come in faster as it always does, even with only thoughts of the pianist her heart flutters and skin cells from their last touch crackle with electricity. She looks up, meeting the footballer's gaze with a small smile and moisture filled eyes. Her emotions refuse to be contained and she doesn't want to lie or belittle the truth of her feelings, she had done that too much around Finn already. Starting out low, her voice gains conviction.

"Yes. I do. Things are different this time. My Broadway tunnel vision is starting to disappear around her, _in a good way._ I've never really noticed, but there are a lot of things about McKinley that I'll miss, a lot that has _nothing_ to do with glee. Finn, I've never had real friends other than Kurt. Somehow Quinn changed that for me. Now, I actually chat to Mercedes about her aspirations and date plans. Turns out, Tina's more than just the shy Goth girl in the corner, she stands out just like everyone else in the team. Santana's tough as nails but she cares as well. And Brittany, she's smarter than everyone gives her credit for – "

The torrent of words hit the footballer. And it's not a slow realization because it hits him right in the chest,

"You love her."

Rachel pauses, eyes wide. She wonders if it is really that obvious. Upon Finn's encouraging expression, the tension drains out of her frame. She recognizes the pain that is being hidden, but the genuine positivity emanating from the tall boy tells her that he can move on and past their relationship. She's relieved that he won't be unhappy forever. Their olive branch is the next few sentences. It carries an advice for the current situation and a reflection of the past. Talking is less stressful now that the footballer doesn't have to hide the fact that he had help wooing the brunette all those months ago.

"Then you shouldn't worry Rach. Whatever you choose to get her will be _the right_ thing. When I was trying to get you a present, Quinn always said to get something that would… I don't know… make you think about me or whatever. I think she said it better but – "

Rachel interrupts, saving him from his lack of descriptors. The message got across. It's interesting how in hindsight, the blonde's instructions show Rachel the way as well, slowing down the obsessive need to find the ultimate gift. Anything with thought and love would do… even a commonplace music book.

_Well, maybe she would think about it for a moment longer._

"Thank you, Finn. It helps."

The footballer nods, embarrassed. However, it's her subsequent enquiry that causes his skin to turn bright red.

"Now, Finn, what are you doing here? I know you don't like to shop. Your mother even gets your clothing for you."

Skittishly, the footballer seems to glance around. Small twitches appear in his left eye and cheek. His fingers drum erratically against the table. He seemed annoyed, uncomfortable and nervous. Grunts and monosyllabic sounds escape, making no recognizable sense. The tall boy is so focused on trying to control his blush and Rachel is so focused on his strange reactions that they don't notice the redhead striding to their position, sunglasses on and shopping bags full.

"Finn! There you are. Hurry up I need more boxes, turns out replacing the things that I had left in my mother's house is harder than I thought. I plan to use all of _Mary Edward's _hush money."

Kelsey calls out as she unloads her belonging on a spare chair. Turning, she'll nod gruffly to the singer in acknowledgment, only to face the footballer again. Business laced her movements because unlike the two sitting down, she hasn't been caught unawares. Her brain is working at normal speed and the current situation doesn't faze her.

"Finn, move it. I'll be at the department store opposite to the motor-goods shop."

With that she's gone again. Rachel tilts her head in amusement to the footballer. She can't help but notice three things. That the interaction she had just witnessed seemed fluid and _normal_. Finn was comfortable under the redhead's touch and orders. And Kelsey could have used many other markers to describe her aforementioned location, all of which would be clothing, jewelry or accessory shops but she chose the one place the Finn might actually recognize. She had made a concession.

"Kelsey? Would you like to explain, Finn?"

At the curious tone, the footballer looks away, scratching the back of his head. He feels as if his mother had caught him in the cookie jar.

"Uh yeah. She left a lot of stuff at her mother's and needs someone to help her bring her new stuff to wherever she's staying."

Rachel nods, for some reason it the first real sign she has that the footballer is on his way to recovery. But from his erratic blinking and hands stuffed in jean pocket, she supposes that it'll take him along time to realize. Happiness, being content, those feelings will sneak up on him.

"It's good Finn."

The footballer snorts. His mind rebels to the notion, desperate to communicate his complete _lack _of feeling towards the redhead. It won't change anything but he clings to the relationship that he had with the brunette like drowning man to dry land. It was where he felt safest. Kelsey is…unpredictable and a tad manic. He doesn't understand why that description of the girl seemed to always jump into his mind whenever people mentioned relationships. He thinks it's because the redhead practically molested him.

"No it's not Rach. Kelsey asked me for my help in front of Burt and my mother. I couldn't say no."

Finally the diva asks.

"Finn, are you happy?"

Silence. He rubs his jaw.

"I don't know. But when I hang out with Kelsey I'm not sad."

The footballer pauses to actually think about it. The answer slipped out like the butter. The truth always did. Whilst he wasn't overly fond of the redhead, her tactlessness, busy plans and _odd _personality plays the role of the distracter quite well. He actually gets to know the girl because she won't stop detailing her thoughts, opinions and feelings _about everything_. Kelsey takes control of their interactions without a care. Turns out, she has a passion for machinery after a summer with her Uncle Bill on the outskirts of town. It's something that they find themselves talking about after all the tasks are completed and they're waiting in the traffic to get home. What he doesn't know is that sometimes distractions have the ability to heal as well. Finn looks up to his ex-girlfriend.

"Rach… you and I, we're ok."

There's a gap where the singer's eyes widen a little. Worried, Finn leans forward.

"What is it? Are you alright?"

Rachel waves the frantic concern away. She speaks with masked awe.

"You just said _you and I_, Finn. It's grammatically correct. But you always used to say you and me? What changed?"

The footballer swallows, rubbing his arms. He nods in the direction of the redhead two levels above, talking animatedly to a salesperson, probably hammering them into submission.

"Kelsey, _she_ punches me whenever I get it wrong. I swear she's got the power of a linebacker."

At that moment, they turn to see the tall ex-cheerleader gesturing wildly at them. The only part that either of them understands is the universal _come here _sign_. _Regretfully, Finn packs away his rubbish, standing up.

"I have to go, Rach. But… tell Quinn that she can stop."

"Stop what?"

Rachel's brow crinkles in confusion. Finn shrugs his shoulders, holding her gaze.

"She can stop apologizing and being creepily nice. She wasn't even like that when we were dating… Tell her it's ok."

As he tried to leave, a small tan hand stops him and a strong inquisitive voice comes out.

"She apologizes?"

The footballer nods slowly. He finally realizes that the brunette had no idea.

"Yeah, for her part in our break up…"

A disbelieving expression crosses the diva's face. She doesn't see the need for the pianist to apologize for _anything_ and now she can't stop wondering why the softball captain does. Finn answers the unspoken question.

"Quinn comes from one of those families, Rach, where the guy pays for the first date, stands when the girl enters and leaves the room. She believes in…I think the word is chivalry? I don't know, I heard Kurt saying once, kind of like a guy code of honor or something? But ever notice how she doesn't kiss you when I'm around? I think she's trying to make it easier for me. What I'm trying to say is I accept it, the two of you together."

She opens her mouth to say something, but memories stop her. Rachel recalls thinking about how the blonde seemed to belong in that regal home, a perfect example of an old world. With grace in every step and knowledge in her speech, she's comes from another world, _almost._ The pianist is the _ghost_ of Grace Kelly and the _dreams _behind Prince Charming.

"Finn!"

Kelsey's impatient yell vibrates from above. Other patrons around their area look up with surprise. Finn hurriedly places the last of his rubbish in the bin. Shuffling around, he's about to say something but stops himself. He gives her a hesitant pat on the back.

"Sorry Rach I've got to go."

/

Breadstix is that place in a small town that everyone goes to, the universal watering hole. It's busy, familiar and actually well furbished. So, in many ways it's not without its charms. Rachel reminds herself of that fact as she tries to push her way through the Saturday evening crowds to one of the center booths. She prepares her stomach for a night of dry breads and questionable salads. There are saving graces to the evening though. Her smile blossoms upon seeing the back of her girlfriend's blonde head and the consistently strange ex-cheerleader couple sitting opposite. Brittany seemed to be trying to use her breadstick as a straw whilst the Latina watched with a doting expression. It was double date night and the only way Santana agreed was because it was in her favourite restaurant and… _the tall dancer asked her to._

"Rachy!"

Brittany squeals upon the shorter girls appearance. In her excitement she jumps out of her seat bouncing over to the singer encompassing her in a tight embrace that lifts her feet slightly off the ground. Rachel can't help but chuckle and marvel in her mind about the innocence that the dancer possessed and the warm reception that was given. Over the Brittany's shoulder, Santana can be seen giving a gruff nod, whilst Quinn automatically turns around. A smile appears over the pianist's features as she stands and waits for her turn around her girlfriend. They catch each other gaze in the meantime. _Hi._

Eventually, Brittany seems to realize that she has to let go as she makes her way back to the Latina. They start whispering about something nobody else would probably understand. And Quinn takes a step toward Rachel, bringing their lips together in a soft kiss. It's a proper greeting, caring yet respectful, especially due to the public arena. The brushing of a dark brown tendril behind tan ears communicates the deeper meaning. And the sports captain interlaces their fingers together walking them to the booth. When they get there, she waits for the singer to be seated first, _to be comfortable, _before moving down, herself. The action is sweet and cultured. Hazel–green eyes reveres every inch of the shorter girl. It takes Rachel's breath away…because… she feels like Cinderella at the ball.

The waitress hands them the menus. Rachel doesn't bother reading because, really there were only three item she could eat and through her many night's with Finn she could recite them off by heart. Quinn seems to watch her for a moment concernedly before turning to the list. _Under the table_, their thighs are touching and the warmth excites like nothing else. Between the pianist's simple beige sundress and the diva's short plaid skirt there was no barriers really. Any slight movement causes one of them to gasp and the other to swallow in an attempt to compose herself. _On top of the table,_ their hands are still connected. A tan thumb rubs circles on pale skin. Quinn grins into the menu. Rachel beams to Brittany, as they speak animatedly and in exaggerated secrecy. The giggles that radiate from the two girls cause Santana of narrow her eyes in suspicion and the softball captain to shake her head amusedly.

"Ladies, are you ready to order?"

A middle-aged waitress came to their table.

"Meatball bolognaise and keep the breadsticks coming, because we're running low."

Santana reeled off, without a care. The older woman rolls her eyes, dealing with this particular Lima resident more than she cared to. She wonders where manners went these days.

"I'm sorry, what my friend means is please and thank you. I'd like a chicken parmesan fettuccini with a salad side, thanks."

Quinn speaks respectfully, holding the waitress's gaze. The woman seems to soften, nodding graciously. She ignores the snort that comes from the Latina. She's also amused by what she guessed is a well placed kick under the table. Santana hisses in annoyance glaring at the polite blonde, saying nothing.

"How about you two?"

The question is directed at the short Jewish girl and tall blonde, _still _conspiring behind open palms and stacked menus. One, two, three…Brittany's head pops up like a white rabbit from a magician's hat. After a happy wink from her seeming partner in crime, her features are schooled and she sits a little straighter. A rare look of determination is expressed.

"I'll have the bacon and onion spaghetti dish with a side serving of ice cream please. The combination may not be on the menu, but it is probably a more popular alternative to the options you've listed here and what I would like to have. In addition I understand, that it's up to your discretion, but please refrain from spitting in my girlfriend's food. Granted, what she said wasn't very nice but she is a genuinely good person."

After that stream of speech, three people are frozen in shock: Quinn, Santana and the waitress. In all their time, they had never heard such a crafted vocabulary filled reply from the dancer. In contrast, the diva and the tall blonde hold a straight face and share a look. Brittany's eyebrows jump up with realization as she hurries to add one more statement.

"Oh, I nearly forgot, please and thank you."

There's another pause and it takes a moment before the girls can't hold it in anymore. Rachel and Brittany burst into fits of laughter. For all her acting skills, the diva's ability to stay serious was voided by the genuine alienation displayed by the two alpha girls. The Latina appears to have suffered a processing malfunction as her features scrunch into a series of _what the's _and _huhs? _The singer waves her free hand in front of catatonic eyes.Whereas, Quinn seems puzzled to say the least. Brittany give her co-conspirator a high five and bounces excitedly.

"Sanny, I told you Rachy was teaching me new words."

With that, recognition of the joke dawns on the shell shocked three. Slowly, life returns to Santana's expressions, twisting into a scowl. Her eyes narrow and she places her palm to her forehead in exasperation, breathing deeply.

"I think I'm going to kill you. Stop trying to Rachel Berry my girlfriend."

Brittany looks confused and Quinn tilts her head at the statement. The Latina had actually managed to use her girlfriend's name as a verb, so she really doesn't know what to be. It's not every day that someone pulls one over Santana. Yes…from the slight smile that tugs at her lips, the pianist thinks she's most definitely proud. Still, she squeezes the brunette's hand slightly. Santana wouldn't really harm the singer but the softball captain would always be there to reassure, and _protect_. Thankfully, the waitress seems to pick the perfect moment to break the air.

"Um, sorry to interrupt but what would you like?"

Everyone leans back into their seats and Rachel smiles without care. After all these years, Santana threats were as effective as balled up paper, resembling more like an old friend. The fact that the Latina's brown orbs were glittering with entertainment did not do much to improve her supposedly hard reputation.

"Just the vegetarian house salad, please."

The singer can't help the small frown that appears, as the order flows from her mouth. This would be her fiftieth time eating it. Her taste buds have since been dulled to the flavor. So when she looks down blandly at the table, she's more than a little grateful for the confident calm voice of her girlfriend. Her back snaps to attention and she turns her head, capturing Quinn's poised profile. Under the restaurant lighting she may be just a little dazzled by that feathery blonde hair and those defined cheekbones. The quiet power that the pianist exudes doesn't hurt either, sending a jolt through the diva's extremities. Her muscles do a spasm, a shudder in delight.

"Actually no, she'll have the roasted vegetable pizza, made with the substituted ingredients detailed in the list I sent."

"Yes of course."

The waitress nods leaving them to their own devices. Rachel rouses herself from her stupor. Colour finding her cheeks as she realizes her surroundings. Somehow, everything feels warmer. And all she can think about is dragging the blonde off to a secluded corner to work of some of this bouncing energy. Instead, she manages to expel a statement that doesn't really mean all that much in the current situation.

"Quinn? The dish you ordered isn't vegan friendly."

The blonde opens her mouth to speak but she's interrupted. Santana sniggers, shaking her head. However even she had to admit the notion was sweet. Her friend was clearly whipped and lost to reality, although it's possible that the world of Quinn and Rachel was even better. The pianist's mind was so wrapped around the singer's wants, need and feelings. And the feelings are clearly reciprocated if the diva's previous slack jaw and unconscious lean into the softball pattern are any indicators…_ which, _they are.

"Oh but it is Berry, Q sent a list of instructions to Breadstix this morning to gets a disgusting vegan version made for you."

Santana looks away, turning to Brittany. She really didn't need to see the loving display that would ensue. Curiously, Rachel can't really bring herself to be shocked or surprised. It says something when all her childhood dreams of a prince and all her expectations for a friend are realized and completely instinctive, combined in _one_ person, _Quinn_. The pianist had old-fashioned social etiquette, wisdom and beauty. In her expressions alone, lies a deep reverence for chivalry and understated romantic gestures. It's really not a secret but the brunette is in awe… _every time_. She begins to see a little more of what Finn had mentioned. The softball captain was undoubtedly different, special and rare.

From the weeks since that fateful glee afternoon, since confessions were broadcasted in song through loud speakers, the brunette has been walking on air. More than half the time, everything fell so perfectly in place that the diva doesn't want to be woken up. She thinks that a relationship like, this, can't really be real. But then _again, _when she feels that subtle brush of the blonde's hand and electric current that vibrates within her small frame, _she is convinced otherwise._ A brilliant smile appears over her features and she hugs Quinn's hand close against her chest. They can both feel the beating of the singer's strong heart. Slow breaths in and out, and Rachel whispers into their combined mess of fingers.

"Thank you."

The pianist shakes her head to herself. There was no need for gratitude. She's just doing what she should and what she needs to protect their happiness and _love _her girlfriend. Nevertheless she responded into the diva's reddening ears. Her breath tickles, causing the smaller girl to shiver and blush.

"You're welcome."

The pianist's hazel green orbs warm and act as a heartfelt tingle-inducing embrace. The two girls hold each other's gaze. They don't exactly move closer because they are already touching from the shoulders down so they don't really need to. But playfully Rachel leans forward, only to pull back. Quinn's grin is one of amusement as she tries to catch those soft lips. It's another one of their moments. It's another one, which the rough voice of the Latina breaks and stomps into.

"Hurry up and kiss her already Q cos me and Berry gots a score to settle."

The girls look up, rolling their eyes at the intrusion. Quinn leans in to give the singer a quick peck on the cheek anyway. She was blushing shyly as she pulled back. From the corner of her eyes, the softball captain can see the shocked patrons staring their way, after Santana's outburst. Brittany seems to take that into consideration as she pouts to her counterpart.

"Sanny, stop being mean. Bullying is one of the predictors for life dissatisfaction."

As the words leave Brittany's lips, the pianist chuckles. Rachel is even pleasantly surprised by the dancer's recall of that small fact. She had only told her about it during yesterday's glee rehearsal whereas Santana groans in her hands.

"That's it Berry, what do I gots to do to make you stop brainwashing Britts?"

The Latina attempts to looks menacing as she clasps her hands firmly, eyes pointedly staring at the singer. Rachel shrugs her shoulders disinterestedly.

"There's nothing wrong with increasing her range of speech knowledge, Santana."

The singer receives a glare from the fiery ex-cheerleader. And Quinn doesn't say much because it's not a question of Brittany's intelligence. If this change would actually make the dancer happy and feel better, then without a question, the Latina, before anyone else would teach the lessons. _But it wouldn't._ Little known fact is that the dancer has never actually failed any of her subjects, instead, she has _fun_ and she gets by. Quinn and Santana would never let their friend fall behind. But once, years ago… Brittany _had been_ assigned a tutor by the school. By the end of three weeks, her cheerful innocent nature got _broken._ The volume of knowledge weighed so heavily. Her mind swarmed with information about all the mindless petty wars that were and _are still _being fought. She cried when the teacher tried to illustrate anatomy through dissections. The sight of a frog or bird, belly open caused her to run from the room, lunch coming back up. The Latina remembers it vividly. So she closes her eyes, growling.

"Like hell there is, you know what? I challenge you to a sing off. If I win you gots to stop on the weirdness on Britts."

From Quinn's stern look, Santana tries to keep in mind that it isn't really Rachel's fault. The singer just didn't know and they don't know how to explain.

"Come on Santana, You obviously don't have the vocal range to beat me in any sort of singing competition."

Rachel rebuked. The Latina lets out a scoff, knowing that there was one thing that the diva would never resist.

"Scared?"

After that there was nothing to stop this. Quinn sighs, leaning back resignedly. Rachel features became determined as she sat straighter, focusing her attention on the Latina.

"Fine I accept. What are the indicators of a victory?"

"Loudest cheer."

Santana responds without a thought. It's one thing to sing well but it's another to entertain and thus she's sure she'll win this.

"Prepare to lose, Santana."

Rachel states and she begins to walk to the karaoke stage. Santana rolled her eyes.

"You ain't got nothing on me Berry."

As the two competitors walk away from the booth, radiating with stubborn energy, they're pulled back for a brief moment by their counterparts. Brittany giggles, placing her arms around the Latina. An enthusiastic bubbly kiss follows. There are a few gasps from the other patrons of the establishment, ignored without a care. And then with a subsequent slap of the bottom, Santana is sent off like a batter for the last home run. Quinn, on the other hand takes a decidedly different route, but it's not less. It's definitely not _less_. She takes both tan hands and kisses each of them. There's pride, love and unwavering support as she leans their forehead together, whispering.

"Just have fun, Rachel. You can move anyone with your voice."

In response, the singer breathes deeply. She feels something grow strong inside her mind, pushing away her secret doubts. She lets Quinn's voice and meaning wrap around her mind. It's interesting because the pianist didn't employ useless platitudes or baseless predictions of victory. The blonde doesn't disillusion her or blindly drag her hopes around by promising that she _will_ win; only the fact that she _can. _She has the potential to. It has a different effect. Quinn smiles encouragingly, nodding to the stage. A strange buzz flows through the diva's veins. Her hands are trembling for the first time and she decides that she likes it because she can't wait to begin. She can feel those hazel-greens tracing her every movement, lingering on certain areas before settling on her brown orbs. There's amusement in both their eyes because the once-over _wasn't_ subtle. And Quinn remembers something from their experience with Haverbrook School for the Deaf. In the open, her hands make a series of small gestures. _I love you. _Rachel melts, eyes shining.

"Ok Breadstix people. We needs your help for a moment so stop shoveling food in your mouth. Me and Rachel Berry, here, have a problem that gots to be solved. So you gets to listen to us sing. The person with the loudest cheer wins."

Santana bellows into the microphone. Everyone stops and looks up, some with interest and confusion, others with annoyance and distaste. It rolls straight off the Latina as she experiences both daily. Randomly she clicks a title on the karaoke machine. Music starts to play and the two girls onstage prepare their games faces. It takes them a moment to register the song: One Republic's Good life. The Latina grins as she starts.

Woke up in London yesterday

Found myself in the city near Piccadilly

Don't really know how I got here

I got some pictures on my phone

She saunters around the diva and across the stage. Confidence and suaveness exudes off her body and voice. Brittany lets out a loud cheer, getting on her feet and moving about. Some people begin to nod their heads. She's good. The lyrics suit her. But Rachel won't let it deter her from her goals. Drawing from her experience and the captivated expression of her girlfriend the singer moves to the center, starting her line. The Latina is just a little shocked at the alpha attitude the brunette is able to exhibit, raising an eye to Quinn. The pianist just shrugs her shoulders, smirking. Santana had her work cut out for her.

New names and numbers that I don't know

Address to places like Abbey Road

Day turns to night, night turns to whatever we want

We're young enough to say

Nobody expects it. But Rachel is able to assume the role of the character in the song, looking demurely under her lashes and flicking her hair. She feels popular, free and a bit like a player. The appreciative glances of some of the waiters and dinner goers don't distract her because she only has attention for one. Quinn has the brightest smile on her face and the fastest heartbeats under her chest. Somehow, seeing the brunette vibrant and _so _commanding like this, makes her senses heighten. Her mouth feels a little dry. Brittany tries to get her to stand and _dance. _

Not to be outdone Santana takes the microphone back. Her body moves smoothly to the tempo of the song.

Oh, this has gotta be the good life

This has gotta be the good life

This could really be a good life, good life

With a swagger and a couple of winks she seems to garner the attention of the audience again. Nobody can doubt the fact that her arrogant tone and powerful presence is perfect in the moment. She moves around, taking the hat off a nearby McKinley freshman, whom, practically swoons under her attention.

I say, "Oh, got this feeling that you can't fight"

Like this city is on fire tonight

This could really be a good life, a good, good life

By now some of the crowd has gotten up, clapping to the beat. Santana's forceful nature does wonders for the next verse, punctuating the words that matter. She chuckles as her gaze falls on Brittany. The dancer is exuberant as she choreographs moves on the spot. Things are all right. Her girl is safe, joyful and protected.

To my friends in New York, I say hello

My friends in L.A. they don't know

Where I've been for the past few years or so

Paris to China to Colorado

Sometimes there's airplanes I can' t jump out

Sometimes there's bullshit that don't work now

We are God of stories, but please tell me

What there is to complain about?

With that question, Rachel takes over. Even the people that were irritated at the beginning start to tap their feet.

When you're happy like a fool, let it take you over

When everything is out you gotta take it in

Oh, this has gotta be the good life

This has gotta be the good life

This could really be a good life, good life

I say, oh, got this feeling that you can't fight

Like this city is on fire tonight

This could really be a good life, a good, good life

Oh, a good, good life, yeah

With purpose and a strange gentleness, Santana takes the opportunity catch the singer's attention, directing it to their girls. Her expression is as serious it has ever been in the past. With wide eyes Rachel tries to understand, she's confused by the sudden change in her competitor. But there is something in the Latina's stance, which details the importance of this moment.

Turning her head she learns two things.

Brittany is fierce. Her energy and bright personality is unparalleled as she drags Quinn into a dance. Blue eyes glitter with delight, when the softball captain gives in and starts to move. There's a childlike wonderment in her every action because everything in the room is interesting new and novel. It's clear to anyone, she sees the world in different eyes, untainted and simple. She doesn't seem to notice or register the blanching expressions of those rigid customers at the sight of two girls dancing so closely…it must be _nice_…

The thought lingers before she gasps and looks up in realization. Santana seems to be expectant, giving a slight understanding nod. The Latina can let go of her pent up energy and relaxes because the brunette knew now. Rachel knew why changing the dancer's awareness and comprehension was so strongly fought against. It's to protect Brittany's innocence against the worst of the world, discrimination and stigma.

On the other hand, the very visual of Quinn takes Rachel's thoughts away. Whether she's on the toes of her feet or on the heel, the pianist controls her body _oh so gracefully_. She doesn't have to lead because Brittany is actually the taller one between them. And so, the softball captain plays the softer female part. She gets spun out, twirled around and pulled back with laughter, smiles and all. Years of growing up too quickly faded from her face. Everything looks natural, the light girlish coyness, the vulnerability and the chance to _be led_. And Rachel wonders if her girlfriend misses being able to do that. Quinn has been strong since the start of their relationship, always dependable and protective.

Sometimes, because the blonde is _so _good at being that person for her, the singer forgets that she is also _just a girl _as well. She's sure that Quinn, in her precious childhood believed in princes, castles, and being swept off her feet. It's not that hard to imagine a younger version of the softball captain hosting imaginary tea parties and amongst beautifully enacted pillow case weddings.

It takes a second glance, but Rachel Berry discovers the perfect birthday gift for the pianist. She just can't believe she didn't see it sooner. Finn wasn't wrong. The blonde was _different. _In those hazel green eyes, despite the hurdles and hardships that life had given, there was a desire to trust in storybook happy endings.

Watching with some kind of curiosity, Santana takes the next part of the song, letting the singer work through her apparent thoughts.

Hopelessly

I feel like there might be something that I'll miss

Hopelessly

I feel like the window closes oh so quick

Hopelessly

I'm taking a mental picture of you now

'Cause hopelessly

The hope is we have so much to feel good about

Rachel finally seems to return, joining in with the chorus.

Oh, this has gotta be the good life

This has gotta be the good life

This could really be a good life, good life

I say, "Oh, got this feeling that you can't fight"

Like this city is on fire tonight

This could really be a good life, a good, good life

Oh yeah, good, good life, good life, oh, this is

The Latina walks to the diva. The anger and hardness seems to have disappeared from her expression as she forces the shorter girl to dance around. At first, Rachel is confused and caught off guard. But as Santana forces her to jump, clap and enact funny parts of the verse, their playfulness comes into play. The competition disappears from their minds and they enjoy themselves, occasionally catching glimpses of their counterparts.

Strangers may think that they have known each other for a long time because through the performance, Rachel and Santana become closer. They become _real friends_, drawn together by a similar love for their girls.

To my friends in New York, I say hello

My friends in L.A. they don't know

Where I've been for the past few years or so

Paris to China to Colorado

Sometimes there's airplanes I can' t jump out

Sometimes there's bullshit that don't work now

We are God of stories but please tell me

What there is to complain about? 

At the end the girls take a bow. They don't even care enough to determine the winner because the cheers are _deafening_. That and Brittany and Quinn are waiting for them at the edge of the stage, hands outstretched and with matching grins. So the crowd can throw anything at them, be it praise or rotten vegetables, it doesn't matter. In a second they ensconced in the arms of their better halves. Brittany brings Santana into a firm kiss which would later break out into excited murmurings and plans for a celebratory evening. While Rachel lets Quinn take her back to the booth and away from the spotlight. When they reach it, the pianist picks up something waiting on one of the chairs.

"Congratulations, Rachel."

The simple statement is said in a husky voice, belying a deeper emotion. And slowly, a beautiful pink lily is presented. Speechlessness is a state that Rachel Berry gets used to, because the pianist would often break the mold with her words and actions. With care the diva takes the flower, inhaling the scent and places it on the table. The brunette grips the collar of Quinn's cardigan and brings their lips together…_in front of everybody, _including the old couple by the corner_. _At first she's met with stiffness and a still frame, but as she lifts her hand up to massage the area where a pale neck met shoulder, a whimper is released and the blonde comes alive. They start a familiar exploration of the each other's mouth.

In the end, Brittany S. Pierce is in trouble because there aren't enough hours to the night to get through all the ways that she wants to communicate her feelings for the Latina.

Santana Lopez is in trouble because the gleam in the tall dancer's eyes send her internal systems into overdrive and she finds that keeping her hands and mind to herself is hard to do.

Rachel Barbra Berry is in trouble because the pianist isn't really giving her a choice, she can't stop _this, and she keeps falling deeper._

Quinn Lucy Fabray is in trouble because there's nothing else that she isn't willing to do anymore, the residents of Lima be damned.

/

Rachel has dark wavy brown tresses that flow past her shoulders, a cute button like nose and full pink lips. She smells strawberries, cookies and cinnamon. And her skin is warm and silky smooth. It's the vision, scent and texture that Quinn wakes to the next morning. In her barely awake state, a dopey grin appears over her features and she snuggles closer to the figure on her bed. If she's surprised that her dream seems real in her arms, she doesn't show it. Her legs thread with long tan ones, keeping their bodies locked together. When she's comfortable she lets out a content puff of air. The sigh tickles the singer's outer ear and she can't help but squirm and giggle. The movement causes the blonde to tighten her hold, whining _just _a little.

"Rachel, stop moving. Just ten more minutes, ok?"

The childlike tone is all it takes. The diva stops her limbs and settles into the mattress.

"Ten more minutes Quinn. Then we have school."

One hazel eye peeks out from golden eyelashes. There's a smile on the pianist face, as she gets even more comfortable, fingers tracing small circles over the patch of skin where the singer's sweater rides up. Ten minutes turn into fifteen and then twenty. Finally, Rachel has enough sense to jump out of the bed and give up the fantasy of a slow day wasted in the softball captain's room, except that it wouldn't _really _be a waste. But regardless, McKinley was beckoning and the diva has never been late. She's got plans to exact. And, if she happens to do things _just right _Quinn will be glad that she woke up and she'll learn to look forward to this one day, every year.

"Come on, time to get up, Quinn. Your mother let me up here to get you up for school."

With that, and a surprising reservoir of hidden strength the pianist is tugged up onto her feet. The momentum causes her to stumble into the diva and her arms automatically go around that small waist to stabilize herself. A lazy grin adorns her features. She thinks that she wants to do this again, to start her days staring at the brunette. Rachel shakes her head at the antics and drags her girlfriend's focus to her words.

"Happy Birthday."

The blonde freezes, stalling for a second. She had hoped that nobody would remember. So Rachel takes that opportunity to convince her otherwise bringing their mouths together. Slowly, the girls assume the quiet innate rhythm that they both seem to know. Their tongues graze and pull with energy that only comes from missing someone more than one expects. It's irrational because they had spent the entire dinner wrapped around each other the night before. Finally, the singer is the first to pull back. She does a little shy twist on the spot and mutters random syllables to get her composure together: _pay attention Rachel… for Quinn…perfect…today. _

The endearing behaviour makes the pianist temporarily forget usual derision for her birthday. And she brushes a strand of dark chocolate behind tan ears. Rachel relaxes under the administrations.

"You know I ran into Finn the other day."

Pausing her actions, the blonde raises an eyebrow.

"Ok. Weird way to start a morning…"

The statement barely makes it out before Quinn is shaken on the spot by Rachel's tight fisting of her oversized t-shirt. The diva's fierce words plough her over.

"You have _nothing _to apologise for, Quinn. Nothing."

Brown eyes are determined, leaving no room for argument. The pianist can't help but think how beautiful Rachel looks when she's like this, intense and full of drive. Her speechlessness in the current scene gets misinterpreted as doubt because it sends the diva into a tailspin. The softball captain's hand is brought over the singer's left breast. Strong heartbeats are felt, they're so fast, _probably_ mirroring her own. The brunette whispers lowly.

"Do you feel that? _You _do this_. _Finn didn't. He couldn't. So please Quinn, you never have to be sorry."

Rachel's right hand has made it to the blonde's pale cheek. Their eye's lock and nobody breaks apart until Quinn nods, conceding. Acceptance comes in regulated doses around the diva, but incrementally it builds into something bigger and far more meaningful. There's a soft grin and the singer is pulled into a shuddering hug. Eventually, they let go. The pianist is about to go change into her school clothes when she's dragged back. When the diva speaks, she seems to struggle or is at least embarrassed by her next admission.

"The past few weeks, I have been trying to find you a birthday present, something to match your beauty, intelligence and care. And after everything, including Finn and Kelsey, I wanted to a gift that would remind you of me and ward of any other perspective suitors."

"You don't have to – "

Quinn is responds immediately. She still feels bad for her mistake that caused so much pain. But Rachel isn't about to let her girlfriend punish herself any time at all. The blame was equally shared by both of them and falling into relationship pitfalls simply served to show them how real this relationship is. So she interrupts that negative train of thought.

"I know. I didn't end up buying anything but I _was_ tempted by a few ideas."

"Yeah?"

The blonde tilted her head questioningly. And her gaze is met head on, with an inexplicable sense of self-assuredness that the singer had been developing. Rachel is inside Quinn's space, eyes glittering with playful emotion. The pianist _really_ doesn't mind.

"Yes Quinn. I thought maybe I could get you a charm necklace with my name on it. And with your baby doll dresses, it'd stand out in sharp contrast, don't you think? Without a doubt people would know that you were mine."

With a sharp inhale, the blonde is more than a little affected by those words. Quinn is the HBIC, the school's leader and all around an independent person with almost flawless self- preservations instincts _but_ the concept of belonging to the singer excites her like nothing else. A fire settles in her stomach, spitting embers along her limbs and lower regions, making her eyes widen and darken. She bites her lower lip.

If the diva understands her impact then it really isn't obvious. Rachel doesn't respond to the shift in atmosphere as she simply continues on, clearing her throat.

"The necklace… it would lie right there."

Feather-light, the tips of her finger dance across the hollow in between the pianist's collarbones. Electricity jumps across before the touch is even made and reflexively she looks up catching hazel-green eyes…Somehow, s_he knows her effect now. _Her confident matter of fact tone slips out enhancing her intense devotion.

"But there was a problem with that idea. You see I had already done that with Finn when we were together. He gave me one with his name on it. So, the concept doesn't fit us. I could never imagine you wearing one. You're far too strong for that."

Quinn's breathing breaks from its usual cycle; slowing down with the singer's warm rich voice and quickening when the meaning of the words register. Rachel chuckles, whilst shaking her head lightly. Her hands play with the short baby hairs on the pianist's neck. The blonde hair wasn't as short as it was at the beginning of the year, just long enough now to be barely tied up. It's pretty. She beams at her girlfriend, continuing.

"So I thought about a ring. Not a proposal yet of course, we still have a lot to get through before then. I need to get my Broadway career off the ground and you need to be able to say those three words. But it could symbolize everything we feel now and will continue to feel later."

The statement sounds like fact and their future has been drawn in plans in the diva's mind. _Yet and of course. _Quinn is rapt in attention and she can't help but smile. Her eyes trail every slight motion, as Rachel brings her left hand up, pressing a kiss to the fourth digit.

"It would go on this finger."

Rachel lingers because she loses herself for a moment. Then thoughts pop back and she proceeds, loving the quirks and reactions she was eliciting. The blonde who used to make her cry in school bathrooms also did wonders to lift her self-esteem. Astoundingly, Quinn was always a driving force for her either way. The fact that the pianist wasn't pushing her away or reprimanding her for the change in behaviour and change in dynamic is on the forefront of her mind. Quinn is either, secure enough to know that those surface differences won't change their feelings or deep down; she's always had an accurate idea of who the brunette _could _be, powerful and confident _socially_. It's probably a mix of _both. _

The diva delivers a chaste peck to the softball player's lips to bring them both back.

"Problem there? Sam had given you one as well. While I'm under no illusion that you'll go racing back into his arms, the jealous side of me hates the idea that anyone doing something for you before I was able to."

She emits a small sound of discontentment. Quinn chuckles before wrapping her into light embrace. Her next words are a bit muffled by the blonde's shoulders.

"After hours and hours of shopping, I walked into every store imaginable. I actually even walked past a tattoo parlor."

When the words register, the pianist releases her in surprise. Rachel ignores the shock, continuing. Her brown eyes burns through Quinn's hazel-greens. There's so much passion in her modes of communication, speech, gaze and touch.

"Could you imagine it? My name inked permanently onto a patch of your flawless skin. Do you know where it would be?"

The singer pushes back a little, letting her eyes wander. Wicked thoughts seem to find a home in her mind and small sigh sounds out. Her girlfriend really is _the prettiest girl. _In the morning light and swallowed by a ratty oversized tee, she could still take the singer's breath away. She could take _everyone's _breath away. In that moment, Rachel discovers that she has a thing for the slightly disheveled, bed hair appearance. The tan hand that still holds pianist's one, starts to draw small circles over a visible vein. The texture is _perfect, like silk _and there's a sense of awe in her inflection as she utters.

"Maybe on the inside of your wrist..."

Quinn can hear her own heart pumping, faster and stronger. She questions if Rachel can as well, when those tan fingers trace over the passage of blood on her wrist. They both look to each other. Rachel murmurs with her eyes unfocussed.

"…Or at the back of your neck?"

The diva releases the softball player's hand. Instead, delicate fingers move up, grazing along a pale chest and sliding along the junction where neck meets shoulder. A sliver of pressure is applied to the base of Quinn's skull, travelling an inch downwards where it _settles. _The pianist coaches herself on the merits of breathing and the necessity of oxygen as the sensations that the brunette continues to draw threaten her ability of stay still. Her logic can barely keep up with the implications behind the words let alone the incapacitating effects of touch. A lustful haze falls over her mind and she wants to do more, but at the same time, Rachel's expression keeps her place. The singer speaks again, in a breathy tone.

"Or _even_…on one of your ribs."

Rachel's right hand drops to the hem of Quinn's t-shirt, playing with the lining. She's waiting for some kind of permission that is given almost immediately with a nod. With extraordinary care, tan fingers walk up. She can feel the spasm and tensing of the blonde's abdominal muscles to the contact, as if to vie for more attention. The singer can't help but thank the powers that her girlfriend is athletic and thus attractively toned. A complete quiet fills the room as their eyes lock and breathing become heavier, resembling short gasps. Rachel swallows, she's so captivated by the expressions that are being exhibited, furrowed brows, slackened jaw and much needed intake of air.

"If you count up, one… two… three… it's right where your heart is supposed to be, right?"

Quinn clamps down on a whimper. The hold that her teeth have on her bottom lip almost draws blood. By now, her eyes are shut tight, fearing that the combination for visual and tactile input might jeopardize her control in this moment. Her voice is husky in her curiosity. Her imagination takes some liberties picturing the only thought that was running through her mind.

"Rachel…Did you?"

A pause. The diva doesn't respond until the softball player trusts herself to open her eyes again. Then after a shared connection and acknowledging the pianist's unusual shaking hands, she explains. Her voice is clear and sure.

"It's common Broadway tradition to chronicle the greatest achievements and roles of one's life, somewhere. I love you, Quinn. I don't regret _anything _that has got us here."

Quinn doesn't waver or fumble very often. She wasn't raised to do so but around Rachel, _she does,_ so much more than she wants to admit. And the singer _does _know, made obvious through twinkling brown eyes. So now, when the pianist finds out that the only person that she cares enough to risk her reputation and vulnerabilities and future for; has her_ name _permanently painted onto soft skin, _she wavers… and she fumbles…lot_. There's a wide-eyed entranced expression and her voice is barely there as she asks.

"Can…can I see?"

The brunette has small tremors in her nod; slowly bringing up the hem of her sweater. Inch by inch, more is revealed. Hazel and brown eyes lock together. Mentally they're both counting up from the bottom rib, one, two, three and there it is. Three letters "QLF," in simple typewriter font. It just makes it more unique and amazing. In an natural motion, Quinn drops to her knees, in an effort to get a better look. Her head is eye-level to the tattoo and it's still not close enough. Hesitantly, her shaking hands make contact, reverently tracing over the ink. Rachel's gasps fill the room. The softball player swallows, leaning forward. Her lips get pressed to that rib and she can feel the shiver that goes through the singer. That sweet scent of cookies and cinnamon is stronger in this proximity.

"Quinn and Rachel, honey don't forget school!"

Judy's voice seems to come from downstairs, jerking the girls out of the moment. Quinn disengages looking up to the diva's face. With blushing cheeks and labored breathing, the brunette places her hand gently under the blonde's chin, bringing her off her knees. She kisses her full on the lips and tries not to remember the exhilarating signals that were radiating from her rib. School, they had school, education _was important after all. _Rachel repeats that mantra again and again until she's _able to step back. _When she does, it's a test on her abilities as an actor. It's extraordinarily hard to pretend that AP chemistry and world history means anything but in true fashion, she tries anyway. The pianist stands, staring out of breath and full of overwhelming feelings, starting with love.

"Quinn, I'll pick you up for dinner tonight. So don't plan anything, just relax and have fun. I'll have a few things to take care of during the day so I might not see you until then."

/

True to Rachel's prediction, the softball player doesn't get to see her girlfriend for the rest of the day. Even in their shared classes, the brunette always seemed preoccupied with something else, face adorably scrunched in thought. However, that's not to say that the blonde has been left alone on her birthday. No, she still has her memories of the morning and random gifts slipped into her locker, coupled obsessively perfect handwriting on star cut notes. The singer sends Brittany and Santana in her stead to take the pianist to lunch and a private glee party. Quinn shook her head to herself. She once told Finn that she had too many good things in her life and that it felt like it was too much. It doesn't feel that way now. Perhaps it was because those past delights didn't fit. But, with all the happiness that she was feeling now, she's just thirsty for more…

_Quinn craves for more_ feelings and _more of Rachel Berry. _Maybe that's the way things are supposed to be.

/ 

Now it's six-o'clock at night. The sky is darkening and the diva stands outside the Fabray home. She has gardenias in her left hand and a tub of rocky-road ice cream on her right. Traditionalism dictates that it should be roses and chocolate, but the people who wrote that manual didn't know Quinn Lucy Fabray. Rachel took only some of the hints under advisement as she knocks on the door. She turns on more time to make sure everything is where it should be. There's a sleek black sedan, one of those old Lincoln models rented from the nearest car service. The chauffeur tilts his head in acknowledgement and encouragement. The fifty-year-old man has had many people in his back seat but never one as verbose, enthusiastic and deep in love as the girl standing outside today. On the way over he had heard the plan for the night, down to every last detail. The brunette had extreme foresight and the unrestrained beam that overtook her face spoke volumes. This was important. And he feels a need to make sure that nothing goes wrong. Rachel communicates thanks through her gaze, even if she had her license her nerves wouldn't have allowed her to drive anyway.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

"Come in, Rachel I'll be down in a second."

The door opens but a flash of blonde runs up the stairs again. Momentarily stunned, the singer regains her composure. Her natural inclination is to step through and take a seat on one of the sofas but she stops herself by remembering the purpose of the night. It was going to be an evening reserved for magic, princely actions and happily ever afters. So, she stays outside, and waits for her princess to descend the long spiral staircase. During that time, Judy passes the door on her way to the kitchen. The mother goes over to give the singer a hug, whispering the words.

"You're doing fine, Rachel."

And then with a grin she's gone with no mentions of curfews or warnings. She believes that the girls will take care of each other innately. The sounds of the clock seems to echo as the singer realizes just how much she's missed the blonde during the day. A minor shuffling is heard, causing her to looks up. Quinn glides down, floating on air. Her short hair is clipped up on both sides, almost resembling a bun. Nothing detracts from her face and then again nothing ever could. The pianist helps a one-shouldered yellow dress stand out and shine. The length ends at her knees and a white lace bow clinches the waist. The best thing about being intelligent is that one understands when to speak. Rachel Berry understands that she should keep quiet and just let her facial expressions communicate the praises in her heart and mind. No vocabulary could have done the vision justice and none could have been spoken without a stutter.

The pianist has a shy smile as she makes her way to the singer. Rachel wears a light blue blouse that enhances her curves, simple makeup and a thick brown belt. In a rare event, there's no short skirt but a pair of form-fitting dark jeans. Quinn closes her eyes to savor the image. The diva looks handsome like this. Some reciprocal effect must occur because the softball captain feels prettier and special. Her breath _is_ taken away.

"Hi Rachel."

"Hi Quinn. These are for you."

The brunette presents the gifts that she had been holding. The ice cream first because it was melting and needed to be refrigerated quickly. The blonde takes each of the items. Unknowingly her eyes light up and her tongue goes to wet her own lips at the label on the dessert container. Her fingers trace the white petals of the flower.

"Rocky-road and gardenias… I thought you believed in playing fair."

There's amusement and gratitude in her hazel-green eyes. She wished she could say more but as it stood the surprises were beginning to take their toll. She could barely keep up. This was what it felt like when pain didn't mix with love. It was new. And the best she could respond with was witty. However, without a doubt, her best _is good enough_. Rachel seems to translate the messages left unsaid, as she's always been able to do. The diva smiles as she holds her arm out for her girlfriend to take.

"Only when I don't care about the prize. There are some things that I'll do anything to win."

Quinn's eyes widen at the sight before her, an expensive looking car and a sharply dressed driver. Both he and Rachel shot her a smile. The pianist could feel the singer leading her to the back seat, opening the door for her to get in. As she did, a tan hand supported her by the waist, lightly warning her watch her step. Unlike most past experiences with Puck, Finn or Sam, the touch wasn't possessive, lecherous or overprotective. It was simply charming. And for a moment, the pianist feels like she isn't really there. She's transported an old storybook world with musical narrators and talking animals.

/

The car ride was spent behind the partition, whispering about their experiences of the day. Whilst Rachel was tight lipped about the points on their itinerary, she spent exorbitant amounts of time talking about the party held at lunchtime and Quinn's individual feelings to each of her small presents. They're quite comfortable wrapped around each other and the pianist can feel her hand gravitate to that left rib, knowing precisely what was under the cotton material. The singer simply held her other hand, letting her continue. All the while, her warm emotive voice fills the backseat area. The blonde finds that she's missed that rambling. She also finds it so disarming that the diva was so confident one minute and back to being awkward the next.

She could make Rachel Berry _nervous _and it was the greatest thing_._

Eventually, they reach the destination. The singer jumps out of car first, walking around the blonde's side. Taking a deep breath she shakes away her excitement and lingering feelings from the pianist's touch. Princes were gallant, respectful and stood tall, after all. She opens the door. At first, Quinn is confused. Her eyes haven't completely adjusted yet but she's knows she's in a field. Several longer blades of grass tickle her ankles. And gradually the other sounds begin to filter in, street musicians and stall market salesmen. They're at the place of their first date. It's that well-kept secret a few hours from town, the girls suddenly remember their conversation whilst lying on this patch of grass. Rachel smiles brilliantly, extending her hand.

"I thought that we would make another good memory here."

/

The girls eat on a square wooden platform on the lake. It's the size of half a small classroom. In the center there's a single table set up. Vines of small Christmas lights have been threaded around and the four posts. Quinn sees a web of colours when she looks up. It's beautiful and enchanting. There's this inescapable brightness and astonishment that appears in her eyes as she takes in her surroundings. The brunette stands and waits. Every wonderful change in the pianist's expression redeems the work and effort that had gone into it. The blonde's usually controlled face is candid as her eyes widen, her lips part and her there's pure happiness contained by the crinkling around her eyes. Rachel doesn't understand how countless boys never bothered for this reaction. All she knows is that _she's _going to work for it as much as she can because Quinn deserved to feel like this _every day. _

The chauffeur does something out of his job description to double as the waiter for the two girls, carrying the deliciously smelling food from the trunk. Rachel huffs when he makes a joke in trying to juggle them. She had slaved away on the stove to perfect those recipes and they wouldn't disappoint. Quinn feels warmed by the effort.

Strange as it was, candlelight and Tupperware dinners by the water, it manages to hold the very essence of romance in modern times. Over the course, they talk about nearly everything, wherever their minds take them, from childhood memories to a future where they're completely enmeshed in each other's life. Quinn speaks of being in the front row of the diva's first Broadway role, big or small. Although knowing her girlfriend, it was bound to be impressive. Rachel talks about being at the blonde's side, as she becomes a doctor. She'll help the pianist get anywhere she wants to go, out of Lima and into the fray.

"Come on, you can't have always have wanted to be on Broadway? We're talking about when you were, I don't know 3 years old or something."

The blonde pushes with her question, exaggerating her disbelief. The brunette has to chuckle. Her face was already quite red from the laughter, light touches and embarrassing secrets revealed. She supposed one more wouldn't hurt.

"Ok. Ok. Quinn, you're quite right, I didn't always want to be on Broadway. When I was 3 years old, Daddy made the mistake of playing my first record. After hearing her voice, I decided that I wanted _to be _Barbara Streisand. I would move straight into her house and everything because I had a fantastic singing voice."

The blonde wears a smile, nodding to herself as her imagination constructs the image. She could see it, a young Rachel storming and taking over the home of the world-renowned singer. Unable to hide her mirth and in a joking tone she manages to let out.

"How that so different to Rachel Berry now?"

The singer rolls her eyes adorably. The motion always looks a bit strange on her features because she doesn't have the negativity needed to truly pull it off. Quinn prefers it that way because this version of the diva was _the best blend of hope, strength, integrity, talent and a dash of arrogance. _A pout settles on Rachel's features as she harrumphs, shyly looking to the tablecloth.

"Well, I only want to be _like _Barbra now. It's possible that I might have the ability to challenge her…and I pretty sure that identity theft is illegal."

Quinn smiles gently, reaching over, her hand lifts the singer's chin up and they're face to face. A quick peck on the lips and they both surrender themselves to the light flow of the night again. A tune plays in the distance from the records stall. Rachel starts to hum under her breath as she stands. In two steps, she's in front of the blonde, hand extended.

"Dance with me, Quinn.

The pianist has a flashback to a moment in the ice-creamery, before her heart had crossed the line. They weren't trying to enact any debutante ball this time. No, this time it was because they wanted to be close and feel the music. The sides of her lips quirk upward and she places her and in Rachel's. Gracefully, she' pulled to her feet. There's less than an inch between them. They can see accepted emotions and unsaid worship reflected in the flicker of each other's eyes.

Quinn is about to assume the leading position when the singer's hand stops her. Rachel doesn't say anything, holding the gaze. From the corner of their vision and through the sensory neurons on their skin, they know that slowly the singer's right hand has taken the blonde's left. Biting her lip in her curiosity, the pianist follows, placing her right hand on the brunette's shoulder. She can feel heat coming through the blue blouse and hooks it around the tan neck, instead. The softball captain then feels a comforting pressure on her waist, directing her first movements to the start of the verse.

"You don't have to lead tonight."

Rachel's beautiful voice whispers into pale ears before stepping. Bits of the song flow in and out due to their distance away from the main area, but they make do. The diva sings what she knows and Quinn leans in closer to hear. Gasps are released at some of the words and meanings.

Say exactly how you feel

Right now your free to say it all

There is no one here to judge you

I only love you

You're free to close your eyes and fall

You can trust me this is real

Say exactly how you feel

If the blonde ever experiences an honest memory like this one, she'd be extremely surprised. Rachel isn't singing loudly or with a performance air. This was only for Quinn and it translates as so, using softer tones, higher notes and no practice. Towards the beginning of the chorus the couple turns round and round, taking up the whole space.

Tell me all your dreams

What you think love means

We'll lock the world outside

Embrace the gift of time

Promising forever

Knowing that this moment might be

All we ever find

The pianist smiles as a tear slides down her face. It scares her that she feels so safe in the brunette's arms. The three words that she had been unable to say echoes loudly in her mind. Her mouth would open for a second when she thinks that they'll be spoken out loud only to stop. It's on the tip of her tongue.

Every breath of who you are

Tells a story that I love

I have finally found the truth in what I see in you

And what I feel with every touch

The simple beauty of your heart

In every breath of who you are

Love pounds on the barrier between the pianist's feelings and her vocal cord. Quinn tightens her clutch on the diva, trying again. Why couldn't she express herself? Before she can get a sound out a pair of full lips silences her. Their minds fill in the chorus of the song as Rachel's mouth is engaged. The singer's tongue traces the seam of the blonde's lips asking for entrance. It's given and they begin a separate dance running parallel to their feet. The pianist forgets what she was thinking about until they pull back. And the diva's eyes are extraordinarily kind as she shakes her head softly.

_No pressure. You don't have to if you're not ready._

Gratitude washes over the softball player. She's glad that Rachel just seems to know. The singer twirl her around three times before joining in the song.

Embrace the gift of time

Promising forever

Knowing that this moment might be

All we ever find

It's nearly the end, but both girls want to prolong it for a moment longer. Quinn has no words. If you enter her mind all there'll be is a slideshow of her times with the diva on canvas screens, candidly grinning and carelessly laughing. Despite the height differences, her body naturally follows the singer and magic surrounds them like a haze. As cliché as it sounds, she's being swept off her feet. The diva doesn't have a planned choreography in mind like other leads. The singer doesn't have strong arms, broad shoulders or a tall frame. And she doesn't have to. Instead she can so simply read subtle hints from the pianist's gaze, expressions and body. In many ways, people passing by might find it awkward that the blonde has to tilt her head down to rest against the shorter girl. But so what? In her girlfriend's arms, she _likes _awkward, she'd like to live on it.

Rachel Berry is a surprisingly good dancer, keeping a careful eye as she reviews the lessons in her mind.

-Flashback-

Rachel drags both Brittany into the choir room. Santana just comes in on her own accord, annoyed by the entire ruckus. The diva had stormed in, interrupting their make-out session and insisting that she had something more important that needed their attention. After taking a quick glance around to assure the privacy of the area, the singer whirls towards to the Brittany.

"Teach me how to dance lead."

"But Rachy you're short, you don't have to be the lead."

The brunette shakes her head emphatically.

"I need to learn how to do this before Quinn's birthday."

Santana interjects from her position against the door.

"Why? Q might not be Britts but she's not totally incompetent with the dancing."

A pause. The singer pivots, acknowledging the Latina and taking a deep breath.

"It's nothing to do with that but with me Quinn always has to lead. Tell me something Santana, when you were young, did you ever dream of playing the male part? Or did you, like every other girl, picture the day where you're finally swept off your feet?"

The words must hit home somewhere because when the Latina looks up she has a strange rare look in her eyes. A layer of moisture gathers around the edges of those fiery orbs. Santana roughly ignores it and the sting. After deliberating for a second or two, she pushes of the doorjamb and demonstrates movements with the tall blonde dancer. Wordlessly, she communicates instructions by slowing down and re-enacting specific portions. Brittany doesn't question anything, noticing the seriousness of the atmosphere. Every now and then, she would interject with an improvement to a turn of a step, making the motion smoother.

-End Flashback-

Rachel looks up, capturing the image in her mind. Quinn was…all that she ever wanted to find in another. She can see herself promising the pianist, _everything_.

/

The singer eventually leaves for a moment to help the Chauffeur find a candle for the birthday cupcake. When she comes back her heart beats outs of control with worry when she fails to see Quinn sitting by the table. With her breaths quickening, she imagines all the possible bad things that couldn't have happened. For a little while her tendency to overreact slips back, until she notices a figure walking along the shallow area of the lake, sandals in hand.

The sight of the ex-cheerleader is all it takes to restore equilibrium. Rachel begins to calm down again, wiping her palms on her pants. She stares for a moment, watching as Quinn splashed her toes a little and innocence seeped into those pale features. The singer moves to her girlfriend, taking a seat on the nearest large rock, not wanting to break the beauty of the scene. She can have the blonde to herself later. Really, they have the time. Whereas it's just not every day that serenity like this happens. The diva must have lost herself in a daydream, because she doesn't notice the softball captain's calls until she feels a series of small pebbles land near her feet.

"Come on in, Rachel. The water is nice."

The singer raises her eyebrow towards the fallen projectiles. Quinn has impeccable aim because none actually hit her, simply landing the sand hard enough to catch some attention. Her answer to Quinn's request is immediate as she crosses her arms.

"No Quinn. You should get out of there. For all you know it could be full of disease. You can also get worms and parasite from the sand."

A cute frown settles over her features as she continues to think about it. The pianists chuckles as she digs her toes into the wet lake floor.

"Only a big problem if you have open wounds."

The rebuttal slips out. Quinn remembers because some of the girls had caught them during cheerleading boot camp. Sue Sylvester was not happy…_at all_. But seeing the expression on her girlfriend, Rachel didn't seem too fond of the concept either. So the pianist tries a different tack. Her stance softens and she coats her voice in an imploring tone. If she was being honest, it's also because she's sure that the singer couldn't or wouldn't really deny her anything. It was very much like how Quinn, herself could never really say no to Rachel, at least not about the things that didn't actually matter. She knows that when she wakes up she'll include something selfless because it was 'anything for a smile and everything for a kiss.'

"Rachel, you wouldn't want anything to happen to me, right?"

The singer shakes her head slowly. She tries to see what her girlfriend was getting at. Quinn grins, turning around with playful glint in her eye. The diva can't help but think that the pianist looks years younger, happier and prettier than she's ever seen her.

"Well, how could you possibly save me from all the away over there? I could slip."

The softball player feigns a drop. Rachel jumps to her feet in concern, only to roll her eyes when she realizes the Quinn is all right. The blonde continues to speak.

"I could trip."

Another acted movement follows the words. The singer knows that it is not real but she can't deny it her heart rate increases and her legs bring her two steps closer to the water. The softball player smiles as she takes a small step forward.

"I could –"

The pianist doesn't have to finish because the brunette has jumped into the water. The diva grabs links their hands to drag their bodies together in a close embrace. At first, Rachel cringes at the unexpected coldness but she soon forgets when Quinn kisses her soundly under the moonlight.

/

The end to the evening comes all too soon is their only thought when the clock strikes midnight. Quinn almost refuses to move from her comfortable position in the car. Her head is laid on the singers lap and they're playing with each other's fingers. A childish action to be sure, but the night has been a fantasy, bringing out the softball player's inner dreamer. She's the princess in storybooks tonight. Rachel looks down into hazel-green eyes. One of her hands is taking out the bobby pins from the blonde's hair. Any excuse to stay, right? But as she reaches the last one, they both release a sigh. The singer bends her head down, capturing the softball player's lips in a fierce kiss that leaves them both with darkening eyes. She drags her mouth to Quinn's ear she whispering wishes of a Happy Birthday.

Reluctantly, Rachel then slips out from under the blonde's head and moves out of the car. She goes to open the door for the pianist, offering a hand for assistance. Their eyes meet once again and when they make it to the door, Quinn turns around. She searches the singer's face for something but all she finds is care and love.

"The night has been…perfect, Rachel. But you didn't have to go through so much trouble. So why did you do it?"

There's a pause where the singer wets her lips and reaches for one of the softball captain's hands. Once a bubble of focus is created, she leans their forehead together.

"…Because Quinn, after everything, you deserve a fairy tale..."

The blonde blinks rapidly at the words. Surprise crosses her features. When the singer releases the statement in that special powerful way that she tackles everything with, causing the pianist trust as well. And as the brunette begins to move backwards, something deep and instinctive within the softball player rebels. In an instant, Rachel is pulled back, to share the same breathing space again. Quinn really has no idea what she's doing, but her thoughts race and her skin flush. She's not in control, as wonder enters her eyes and a smile embeds itself in her voice.

She's _finally _able to say.

"_I love you, Rachel." _

/

Over the past weeks, the pianist has managed every other possible method to express her feelings towards Rachel, through notes, in song and by touch. But tonight, in front of her door, watching as a pure and effervescent smile appears on the brunette's face, she _knows that she's found the best way. _The three words roll around in her mouth and she says it a few more times.

"I love you."

Squeezing the diva's hands, the blonde whispers.

"I love you"

One inch closer, and they're both aware of every pore, scar and micro expression on each other's face. Quinn smiles gently, opening her mouth to speak.

"I love yo – "

Somehow, she's caught off guard by the singer's body that propels into her arms and the soft lips that fasten over her own… _This is the best way. _

/


	18. Chapter 18 I can wait

**Chapter 18 – I Can Wait**

OK guys, sorry for being MIA for so long. I missed writing this so much. So my head was all over the place when I wrote this chapter but hopefully it'll still be good. And the characters still the same.

/

The girls are studying in Rachel's bedroom; focusing on chemistry, mathematics and every other advance placement class that they have together. Despite the fact that the material is dry and the mode of delivery, disjointed, the girls _don't_ get distracted. Because… Rachel Berry is stubborn and Quinn Fabray is determined.

However even so, a certain pair of full lips do a surprisingly good job of tempting. _Especially_ when the singer has hers trapped in between her teeth in an adorable state of confusion. And hints of the softball player's well-toned abdomen has an uncanny ability to magnetize and monopolize the brunette's gaze, causing her fingers to twitch in response. There are amused glittering eyes and victorious smirks when the girls catch the other staring, only to turn back to their books.

Unlike most students their age, they clamp down on their drives and desires, to work towards something greater and long-term: _a future together._ The brunette will go to Julliard. The pianist will go to NYU medical school _but_ they will both be in New York City. Quinn will be at the diva's first Broadway role: front row and center with silent and colorful streamers. Rachel will sit in the waiting room during the blonde's first solo surgery procedure with crossed fingers and mental encouragements. They're working on it, so the picture becomes a reality.

Funnily enough, it's Leroy Berry who breaks their concentration, giving them the window to stray. A few hours after dinner, the tall African American walks into the room with a tray of dessert. Upon the scene, he wears a look of surprise and even takes subsequent suspicious glances around the pink bedroom. The girls are on the large Queen bed, engrossed in their books. The door had been closed. They're teenagers and whilst he's a father, he's also utterly confounded and concerned. The pianist and the singer really didn't follow the pattern of relationships, having so much control over their baser instincts. Leroy could feel the tension in the air, thinking that when they give in, it might just overwhelm them. They needed to learn how to let go and be _young_. Spontaneous combustion wasn't pretty.

"So how is the studying going up here?"

The singer's head lifts up from the thick volume textbook. Her hair is in slight disarray and a pencil is tucked behind her ear. The tall father can't help but smirk at two things. Starting with his daughter's flurry of actions to correct her appearance, when she catches a glimpse of herself in the mirror. And ending with the complete look of peacefulness in the blonde's expression as she …_simply watches. _Quinn had warm eyes and a slight quirk to her lips_. _Leroy knows that in her mind, there was nothing wrong, _nothing to correct_, but the _way _with which Rachel _does_ is still endearing. 

"Good Daddy. We've finished math and chemistry and have just gotten over facilitated diffusion across cell membranes."

At the brunette's reply, Leroy grins, remembering his experience with the subject. Biology was always his forte but somehow in his final year he managed to drop from a 4.0 to a 2.0, it was truly a miracle that he had managed to get into medical school in the first place. Nonetheless, the tall father never regretted it; despite his own parent's consternations, _because_… it was the year he met Hiram. The bespectacled self-proclaimed nerd was the small person who became his only focus and his distraction. He recalls how he got back on track with Hiram's help at the time.

"You know there are much more fun ways to absorb the material."

Leroy attempts to get his daughter's attention.

"We're fine, daddy"

His comment is instantly waved away by the diva as she turns her head back to the text. Quinn seems amused by the interaction as her girlfriend continually shot down her father's efforts to modify their study regimen. No, Rachel Berry had a carefully constructed schedule and nothing was going to interfere. Yet, as the minutes wore on and the African-American showed no signs of giving up, it was clear that the brunette would break. It wasn't a matter of stubbornness only that her father had the years on her. After two more prompts and she gave in. Her growls morph into a pout and the softball player moves from her side of the bed to comfort her girlfriend. One of her hands is laid on the singer's knee, calming and reassuring all the same. The other takes the giant book from the diva's lap to prevent any damage. The jolt created by the contact causes their eyes to snap to each other's. They're suddenly aware that it's the first _real_ contact they've had this afternoon.

Leroy takes a glance at the scene before speaking.

"Your father and I used to play a game, where if one of us got the question right they would get something: a kiss, a – "

"Daddy!"

The singer ducks her head into her girlfriend's lap, trying to cover her ears. No one in her family was shy about the issue of sex but god; she did not want to hear advice based on her parents' love life. She was already in therapy due to Shelby, she did not need to be for this as well. As usual, her reaction is exaggerated but the end result is what causes all three people in the room to smile. Quinn runs her fingers through Rachel's luscious dark hair, leaning down to whisper something. Maybe it is a secret joke, but nevertheless the singer relaxes and twists her body so that she's closer and more comfortable in the blonde's lap. The brunette smiles to herself, pressing a lingering kiss on the pianist's exposed inner knee. Goosebumps rise under her touch and she can _swear_ that there's a tremble to the talented fingers dancing around her scalp. She _knows_ it's true, when uncontrollably her tongue slips out to taste the smoothness of her girlfriend's perfect pale skin, making the reaction more pronounced. In response, the softball player loses balance, falling forward in surprise. A light gasp fills the diva's ears. All Rachel can think about is that Quinn tastes of spring water and a hint of something sweet. It may not be an explosive activation of her palate, but the diva _definitely _wants _more…_Addiction was a funny thing.

Leroy grins, finally starting to see some normality and youthful desire in their interactions.

"Anyway something to think about girls. Just don't get too carried away. We still need to be parental for the outsiders."

He gives the girls a wink and a playful ruffle of their heads before walking out. He even does them one additional favor and quite obviously closes the door. To which, the softball player raises her eyebrow. Redness starts to blossom under her cheeks when she realizes that he had _still _been in the room those precious seconds ago. She had been lost in a moment, with less than innocent thoughts. She was also completely certain that her expressions would have betrayed her because it's amazing what Quinn is able to shut out, when Rachel comes into the picture. It's even more astounding that she can't compartmentalize. Still, her thoughts fixate on the warm puffs of air hitting her leg and the curious fingers tracing her calf.

"Did your dad just encourage us to make out?"

Quinn's voice comes out thick and kind of choked. Rachel turns, orientating her head to gaze up at her girlfriend's face. The movement causes a myriad of reactions and all of a sudden they seem to be hyper aware of their positioning. The blonde feels the slight pressure and brushing on her lower regions. In her mind, she can hear her senses humming, as a not so familiar throbbing emanates. She has a very abrupt need to move deliciously against the ground, Rachel's head, something _hard; _or to shuffle away completely. Despite her experience with Puck, with _Rachel_, desire is not something she knows how to vocalize. The softball player is smart enough to know that it's not going to go away, so she just attempts to take deep breaths. In her mind, she prays that the brunette stops her ministrations or gives her a green light. Thankfully the singer's voice distracts for a little while.

"Welcome to my family Quinn. We don't have secrets from each other. They know whom I've dated and exactly how far I've gotten with each. It's a blessing most of the time, when their aim isn't to embarrass me."

A small frown appears on the diva's face and a contemplative silence descends. The straightforward verbose response is just what the doctor ordered, devoid of innuendo or offers of a lustful alternative. The pianist caresses the singer's cheek, coaxing a smile out. When one appears, she stares gently and with a far away tone.

"No, it's good Rachel. They care and trust you. It doesn't come as easily to all families."

Her words grounds Rachel in a unique way. Once again, the bigger picture unveils itself; the singer is able to correct her single-minded determination. A thought pops into her mind. If everything is a learning process, then the blonde is_ undoubtedly her_ moderating variable, accelerating her integration to the social world. With lingering careless thoughts about attraction, relationships and luck: she also recognizes the desire in the blonde's tone, _finally_. As the notion becomes solid in her mind, the tanned girl reflects. She's excited and that is for certain. Electricity sparked through her body with a rampant charge. It amuses her that she's only aware of it now when in retrospective, the telltale moisture in her palm and the fast beating of her heart had begun the moment Quinn sidled onto _her_ side of the bed…or was it the very second Quinn set foot into the room? Somehow an image of her girlfriend sprawled on the pink comforter jumps into her vision. In this scene, Rachel somehow has a bird's eye view looking down, her fingers finding all the torturous little sweet spots. In her imagination, the softball player undulating beneath her _really_ doesn't seem to mind. So with glassy eyes she manages to speak.

"Does that mean you actually want to listen to advice from my daddy?"

Admittedly Rachel doesn't quite see Quinn; for a moment she's blinded by all the things we wants to try, all the responses she wants to elicit. The brunette thinks about ways to make the blonde lose control, with breathy whimpers and sighs. She wants to break the softball captain's classically trained posture, _watching_ as the pianist's back arches beautifully off the bed and into her hands. She wants the reason to be that her perfect athletic girlfriend _just can't stay still _as the pleasure overwhelms and sears though both their minds_._ And selfishly most of all, she wants to erase Puck's touch. Like a hawk she analyses all the little things and _she knows that she can and that she will. _

Quinn is frozen as she looks up to the ceiling for a moment. _Is this a test? _As her hands trembles and spasms in Rachel's hair and her breaths come out in short bursts, she knows that she will not pass. With the way the singer's tone oozed desire and playful cooperation, the pale blonde thinks that it might not be such a bad thing, to fall from grace.

"Quinn, how would you like to play an educational game?"

The mischievous suggestiveness glinting in the shorter girl's eyes renders the softball player speechless. Rachel possesses a voice that sings angelic harmonies and whispers dangerous liaisons like an exhilarating caress. It is a marvelous instrument. One that, Rachel plays so well. Quinn shuffles in position, suddenly her clothes are constricting and the butterflies become erratic in her belly. By now the brunette has moved up so that she is sitting instead of lying in the pianist's lap. They're eye to eye. The taller of the two bites her lip and she begins to murmur. 

"Well I don't know Rachel. We're practically done, it is just revision from here..."

There is a pause and the singer wriggles to get more entrenched in her position. Rachel relishes the blondes' sharp inhale and shameless whimper. Part of her questions how she can be so… confident. She's never been past second base and quite honestly didn't plan to until she won that Tony. Santana had once told her that she had the sexual aura of a whiny 5 year old yet none of that seems to apply in this moment. It seems under those that those adoring and darkening hazel greens she feels safe. Thus she _is _self-assured, seductive and compelling. Brushing a couple of loose blonde strands back and she leans forward, speaking into Quinn's ear.

"Then how about this: alternating questions, correct answers means that you get to make some sort of contact. Wrong answers get nothing…"

The words take a while to filter through the haze of the taller girl's mind but as she realizes, she makes sure to nod in response. It's the only intelligent thing she can do as the ability to speak evaporates before her. Rachel smiles knowingly, placing a chaste kiss on the pianist lips before leaning back into a respectable distance. The softball captain's body seems to try to follow, only to be stopped by the tan hand keeping her back.

"Now, Quinn rules are rules. It would be catastrophic if people could whatever they wanted all the time. You want this to be educational, so… play the game."

Amused and frustrated, the blonde shakes her head. In a flash she takes the singer's hand from her shoulder and presses the open palm to her lips. She sneaks a taste, deliberately keeping her eyes on those expressive browns. Rachel can feel the wetness on her palm as the smooth pink muscle traces a heart on her skin. Vaguely she remembers that the tongue is the strongest set of voluntary muscles in the human body, pound for pound. Instead of calming her down, the biological fact seems to do nothing but cause her breaths to shorten as she begins to loose her stance. There are so many ways that her body wants to work with this information but the second she seems to give in, the grip on her wrist is let go. Quinn has a classic smirk on her face as she leans back, far from reach. She loves that her girlfriend has been suspended and taken down a notch. It seems to be a level playing field now, because with space, the pianist's brain seems to work again. When the brunette returns to herself, their eyes burn with delight. _Game on. _

"Alright, We'll start easy because I love you and I know you hate to lose. Describe the phospholipid bilayer to a cell membrane."

The blonde twirls her pencil; she looks like one of those untouchable examiners. Her voice is indulgent, entertained and challenging. Both girls had a competitive side. Just because the softball player keeps hers quiet and under wraps does not mean that it isn't intimidating when it comes out. Rachel is about to find out. So who says learning isn't fun? Whereas the singer raises her eyebrow, on the one hand she's _always _happy to hear that heartwarming three-word confession. On the other, she couldn't believe what her girlfriend was doing. It was such an easy question. Please, was she _trying_ to insult her intelligence? The brunette tilts her head deliberating for a moment. They are half a meter away as she begins her answer.

"The cell membrane is composed of a lipid bilayer…"

It sounds like an automatic answer that she reels off in class. Rachel reaches out to touch Quinn's cheek, as if she'll never quite believe that this porcelain beauty picked her.

"…with hydrophilic heads and hydrophobic tails…"

And now, nothing separates them, because the singer is whispering into the pianist rapidly reddening ears and taking little nips along the way. Her hands loop around the softball player's neck keeping her still. She hears a whimper and wants to turn it to a full-blown plead. However before she can even attempt it and almost as if Quinn had mind reading abilities (a theory that hasn't yet been disproven), she is kept at a distance. The blonde has Rachel's wrists in her hands uncoupling them from her neck and pushing that tan frame back. Once the brunette is on her side of the mattress again, her girlfriend traces those full lips with a pale index finger. The softball player's eyes are glazed and glued to that area, there's a teasing intent behind her expression.

"Not there yet, Rachel… Tell me, what are you missing?"

The singer rolls her eyes at the audacity of the blonde. Briefly she thinks about ignoring the game all-together, after all she's sure that she can make the taller girl change her mind, just give her a 10 second head start. However the rational side of her brain causes her lips to move, elaborating on her previous answer.

"Spanning their length is a protein, which allow for passive diffusion of small hydrophobic and lipophilic molecules. Others will be actively transported by another type, carrier proteins. That means it requires ATP for energy."

Quinn pretends to deliberate. Rachel would probably feel impatient if her mind was actually _there. _If she was being honest the brunette didn't even register her own response. For all she knew she could have given away her secret stash of gold star stickers, not that it really mattered. As it stood the only thing that passed the threshold of her foggy consciousness was intricate plans to get the blonde to stretch, move sideways; _just anything _so that that blue sundress would slide up and crinkle in _the right places. _So, the singer almost does not catch it when the pianist _finally_ responds with an amused tone.

"Passable."

Instantly, the room feels hotter. The singer takes a moment to compose herself, meticulously straightening out the creases to her clothing and brushing her fingers through her hair, as if she hadn't been caught in scandalous intents. Her blush resides minutely and as a result she looks up; that familiar nose in the air expression returning.

"Ok. Your turn Quinn, Describe the melting process on a molecular level."

One should've been worried straight away by the smirk that came across the pianist's face. It was predatory mixed with dark-as-night eyes. Looking around, Quinn doesn't want to give anything away as she searches for something. Eventually she finds it, Rachel's star spangled phone on the bookshelf behind Rachel. Using all of her muscles she leans forward to reach it. On her journey her left breast grazes the singer's cheek. Despite all the clothing layers, both forget to breathe. The diva tries desperately to hold on to some sense of propriety, keeping her hands firmly in her lap. So what if her nails had to bite into her thigh to make it so? On the other hand, guaranteeing pure thoughts proved much harder and well, i_mpossible_. So she's more than thankful when Quinn moves back. If Rachel was in a sound state of mind she would have noticed the redness to the blonde's cheeks or perhaps she just would have been more turned on by the hand rubbing her knee. She looks down at the contact.

"Now who's cheating…"

A knowing chuckle comes out and Quinn simply shakes her head, changing the setting on her phone. In an airy tone she replies.

"No, I'm simply listening to something that you once told me. Visual and tactile aids help promote maximum memory retention… right?"

She parrots the statement back using Rachel's all knowing tone. The hand on the diva's knee slides up a little until it reaches bend of her girlfriend's leg. Rachel fights the urge to moan. Instead she wears something resembling a petulant frown, refusing to give the blonde the satisfaction. Quinn shakes her head. Of course her girlfriend would be stubborn. Brushing the hair from the brunette's face, she whispers knowingly…_happily_. And, all right, so you caught her, she also said it _just a little_ arrogantly.

"Think of it as helping you learn Rachel…"

There's a gap. In hindsight the diva should have taken that time to take fill her lungs with air as the next chain of actions caused her heart to race and constrict. She looks down; Quinn hands are situated on one side of each knee. Very gently, the blonde slides something small in between. The brunette confused at first. But with the converging pressure of the pianist fingers on both sides, she starts to register the shape of a dozen small plastic rhinestones in a 5 cornered shape…Her phone… there's a strange exhilaration that grows in a person when you know something deliciously sinful is about to happen but you just can't figure out how. Not once does the taller girl take her eyes of her quarry. Eyes worshipful, _reverent _as she explores that smooth tan skin. _Sometimes _she will find a softer hypersensitive patch of skin and sometimes she venture too close to the apex of Rachel's legs that her limbs feels the _heat. So much so that it should burn._

"In answer to your question, during solid states, molecules are packed very closely together."

Quinn speaks softly. Pressed tightly, in between Rachel's bent legs is her phone.

_Molecules huh? …Alright then._

The blonde holds their gaze and without looking, presses the first speed dial on her own smartphone. A dial tone bathes the room and the singer realizes that Quinn has set it on speaker. With only a slight delay, a buzz joins the noise though it's not the sound that gets to the diva. She lets out a high-pitched squeak, which graduates into a throaty hum. Her body seems to rock slightly, back and forth. The actual device is about 15 centimeters away her clit but it wouldn't have made that much of a difference. She's quite certain that she needs to invest in a new pair of panties; the slickness coating thigh makes it difficult to stay in position.

"Each molecule is constantly moving. It's very similar to a vibrating motion."

Quinn continues as she traces her finger along the twitching thigh muscles under tan skin. The sensation is like second-hand earthquakes because she can feel Rachel's tremors.

"The only time molecules stop moving is at 0 degrees kelvin when no energy at all, even in the form of heat is supplied."

The softball player ends the call, letting the shorter girl catch her breaths. The blonde thinks that she's never enjoyed science so much in her life. The brunette bites her lip, looking up. Quinn takes it as a sign because her husky voice carries the conversation again.

"When ice melts, it is because the temperature is warmer around it."

Pale hands rubs firmly up and down the length of the diva's legs; generating _friction…generating heat…_ Then they slip in between the singer's clenched legs, encasing the phone.

"The hotter temperature, the _heat energy_ goes to the particles causing their vibrational movement to be bigger…"

Slowly Quinn's hands move around left to right and in small circles. The movements gradually become larger and stronger until the Rachel's legs are pushed apart. The open space allows the cool air from the window to meet the shorter girl's sensitized flesh. The blonde tries not to notice _just how wet_ her girlfriend's panties are or the rush of pride that follows. It almost looks translucent. Her last statement slips out in a daze.

"The movements push the particles apart, increasing the space between… Hence the ice or whatever loses its solid structure and becomes into liquid."

Leaning forward, she kisses Rachel's forehead. No matter who they transition into during the heat of the moment, it's reassuring that they'll always return to the place where love started. The singer wraps the blonde around her like a woolly coat in winter, _like that letterman that she keeps under her pillow_. Quinn leans her head on the divas shoulder.

Eventually, she warmly prompts.

"Draw me the curve for 5 sin (3x + 3) on graph paper."

The singer smiles and moves away to get a large poster size sheet of paper. She lays it carefully down in front of the blonde and for a moment Quinn is confused. But almost instantly she feels the brunette's soft weight leaning against her back as a small hand encases hers. There's a pencil lying in their combined grip. Up and to the left, the singer guides the pianist.

"The amplitude is 5 so we start there. Because it is a cosine curve it'll always start from the peak whereas sin curves start from zero."

The words are sweetly said in a low volume. Almost minutely their hands move in a downward arc. The slow scratch of the pencil fills the room. The blonde isn't really looking at the paper. No, she's pretty much opening staring at the singer's profile. Rachel has a light look of concentration as her bottom lip is tugged in between her lips. Her features are forever trapped between a smile and a pout. She would smile because a person would have to be insensate to not _feel_ Quinn's visual touch. Frankly, it lifts her self-perceptions about herself. Her Jewish nose seems elegant, fitting and a beautiful unique identifier. The imperceptible amount of hair on her upper lip doesn't incite embarrassment over the possibility of a "girl-stache." She's perfect, because the prettiest girl she had ever met, sees her as something special, beyond comprehension.

The pencil stops. The ex-cheerleader is shaken from her thoughts to look down.

"This is the trough at -5 and then you just slowly draw the curve up to the next peak."

This time they're both focuses on the task at hand. Both of them can't help but think, their hands fit; it's a wonderful clash of shades and sizing. The unspoken secret is that they're in a bubble of peace. It is like the type that is usually generated by a tried and true couple having a quiet and simple night together. Quinn doesn't need to think, she can just close her eyes and feel Rachel's warm breath tickle her neck. By the way the singer's front is pressed into the blonde's back, her strong heartbeat sets the pace and makes a lot of silent claims, soothing and familiar.

Suddenly, a choked chuckle escapes from the softball player as her free hand goes to cover her face.

"What? Are you ok?"

In a blur of action, Rachel's worried face is hovering in front of the blonde. Tan hands cradle Quinn's head, tilting it up and down, checking for injury or harm. The pianist shakes her head and drops her hand. Her eyes are joyful, entertained, and _happy_. She has a wide grin on her face, one with white teeth.

"You always said that you would help me with math."

The whispered statement reminds them of their past: the offer to catch the blonde up on math and the calculator equation apology. Rachel relaxes and hugs her girlfriend. She captures the picture of this in her mind. People don't see smiles like that unless they work with children or spend time with Brittany. The ex-cheerleader has honestly never used it in her life. Her parents never gave her the chance to and she thought she didn't know how. But, _Quinn was wrong…all those years. _She just didn't get to know Rachel Berry yet. She just hadn't found her catalyst back then.

The singer tucks bangs back shyly.

"I guess I did. Never thought that you would ever let me. So did you learn something?"

A look is shared. The pianist follows her only thought. _Go on, you know you want to kiss the girl._

Their lips meet and it feels soft, romantic, trance inducing, everything that the moment should be. Their mouths move synchronously as their tongues sought each other out. Going left, going right there's no mismatch in signals. Neither fights for dominance, keeping it simple and undemanding. They try to draw it out as long as possible. Quinn remembers just where to put the pressure as she flicks the brunette's upper palate teasingly. Rachel behaves more like Alice in wonderland, spontaneously rubbing every crevice. As they pull back for air the diva's question repeats in the ex-cheerleader's mind. Making an active decision to _be there_ she makes sure that she has her girlfriend's full attention. A pause before she gets it out.

"I learnt that…I think I'm going love you forever, Rachel."

Tears create a film over chocolate brown eyes and warmth surrounds all of the singer's vital organs. The singer brings their foreheads together. In the complete lack of space, she whispers.

"Look, I'm not going to make you promise _never_ to break up with me. And the reason for that isn't because you don't mean anything to me. You _have_ to know that you mean _more_, more than Finn or _anyone."_

The blonde tried to look away, to escape the focus. She tries but there are times when emotion-laden moments still make her lash out or turn tail and run. After that jealousy incident, she was done hurting the singer so she turns herself away. But unlike Puck, Rachel didn't walk away. Unlike Sam, she didn't force Quinn's attention back. Unlike Finn, the diva didn't _stutter._ Instead the brunette takes the pianist hands and just holds them as she continues to speak.

"It's _also_ not because I think that I'll be able to survive without you. I have my doubts _that _already. You are a part of my plans for the future."

The words catch and the softball player's head snaps up. She in awe but her silence must have been misconstrued because it sends the shorter girl into a flurry of speech.

"And I know how you don't like to be cornered – not that I'm cornering you – but I – "

Quinn surges forward and kisses the diva. The action is undeniably cliché and cheesy but the pianist finally understands why they do it in the movies and storybooks. It is strangely effective. Pulling back, things are now calmer. The softball player breathes deeply as her fingers trail silent thanks along the shorter girl's arms, waist and thighs. Slowly the blonde leans the brunette backwards so that she's lying on the bed. Their eyes are everything that they don't say. Their bodies move and they ignore the world around. As much as Quinn tries to brace herself on her elbows she ends up sinking into the diva's body. But to be fair Rachel's hands on her hips don't give her many options. They close her eyes, trying to survive the feelings. The ending to the brunette's statement lingers unspoken.

"_I won't make you promise anything, but I am going trust that you won't break me._"

Lips fasten against each other. Hands move along the length of each other's body. The blonde's well-muscled thigh slips in between Rachel's leg. She can still fell the leftover dampness from before. A tan hand slips under her bottom of that blue sundress, inching up. Each centimeter up is something previously undiscovered. Rachel didn't know before that her girlfriend had a 5-centimeter scar on the back of her thigh; two inches down from her bottom. She had no idea that they had piggyback races at cheerleading camp and that Quinn's partner had struggled and dropped her on a sharp rock. It would have been fine, if it weren't for Santana and the pianist's desperate attempts to preserve Brittany's innocent belief of kissing it better. Needless to say an infection developed, the ex-head cheerio sat gingerly for a month. The diva didn't know, but _she finds out…today. _

Each centimeter up is request for permission, another easy exit to the moment. Things aren't in a rush. They are developing an urgency that they _can_ understand, at their own pace. When the brunette hesitates after touching Quinn through the moist material of her cotton panties, they automatically stop. They drape certain limbs over each other and fall asleep in an embrace.

The girls agree that sex is not something to be rushed but as usual it's not their decision to make. The softball player wants the singer's first time to be everything that hers wasn't. However even in their sleep, as Rachel slips a moan and decides grind against the pale legs and as Quinn incidentally meets each thrust, they're on the precipice of desire. They consider breaking their own rules about sex. The universe gives them a little push.

/

The next day, everyone is in their first period classes when quite abruptly the interference from the intercoms blares across the room. The teachers pause and look up with annoyance. The students are thankful for the break. Puck sneaks the pop quiz answer sheet from the front desk. Santana and Brittany giggle, sharing a dozen inside jokes. Quinn and Rachel reach across the small gap in between desks to hold hands. It's peaceful; well almost… after all it's still high school.

"Hello? Children? Please be quiet. The school nurse has just informed me that there's been a breakout of Herpes in the school. In light of this, the Lima Educational Health Standards forces me to instate mandatory sexual education and disease prevention classes for all students. We will not have a repeat of the Mono incident of last year. At the end of the week, you will gather in the Gymnasium for medical checkups and a performance about abstinence by the New Directions. That is all."

The principal's voice clips off and all hell breaks loose. Voices of the glee club sound out from various classrooms throughout the school. In Modern History, Tina whispers wide-eyed whilst Mike becomes steadily embarrassed.

"What?"

In Trigonometry, Artie looks around confusedly.

"He's kidding, right?"

Brittany bounces in her seat, tilting her head. She has a smile on her face that alienates everyone else.

"Cool. I heard from Lord Tubbington that Herpes is like the new cashmere. Everybody should have it."

Quinn leans her head against the desk.

"This is not happening."

Puck has his arms crossed as he leans back, balancing on the hind legs of his chair.

"Abstinence? The Puckasaurus does not do that. Fish gotta swim."

The statement is punctuated by a leer towards Lauren. The wrestler simply rolls her eyes and pushes a finger on the back of the plastic seat. The Mohawked boy falls on his back and he scratches his head guiltily. Dating Lauren Zizes Rule number 58, don't make any lewd comments in public about their sex life or else it will cease. Two rows behind, Santana is incredulous. Her dismissive tone fills the room.

"As if anyone is still a virgin."

_Still a virgin…_

Three words never seem so heavy. That part of the statement is deafening in the minds of certain people. Quinn feels the grip on her hand tighten and concern clouds her mind. She doesn't need to look up to know that the smile on Rachel Berry's face is now forced. She doesn't need to say anything because it won't really make a difference. This was the singer's weak spot and her thoughts are probably going a million miles per second. The blonde presses her lips to the back of the brunette's hand. It's all she can do and the shorter girl _is_ grateful through her embarrassment, shame and lack of experience. The softball player questions why people care so much about the physical consummation of relationships because she wished that she had waited. _Because Quinn is sure that she's found the right person in Rachel. _So, if she could turn back time, she would, but given the choice between protecting the singer's purity or her own, it's no contest. And she is angry with the media, the students of McKinley and even members of the glee club for making her girlfriend feel that waiting _was not ok._

/

"You can't make them do this. The Glee kids are already on the very bottom of the social ladder in McKinley. Making them preach and sing about celibacy is going to push them over the edge!"

An irate music teacher storms into the principal's office. In his flurry of action, loose sheets paper slip off the large mahogany desk in front of him. The Indian man looks unphased as he picks the mess up. Spending years around Sue Sylvester has long since eroded his ability to be shocked by educators.

"Nonsense William. There's no such thing. The slushies have stopped haven't they? Maybe you should give the other children some credit. Maybe they're all growing up."

Mr Schuester has a hand on his forehead, trying to rub away the stress. He presses his next words out slowly.

"But they're not! _If_ they were, then this situation wouldn't have happened in the first place. You've got herpes running around because they're _not _mature!"

Principal Figgins gestures to the empty seat. Once the music teacher is settled, a placating tone is applied as he tries to smooth the situation over. It was true that the Lima board was made out a series of stuffy, outdated so called pillars of society but they _still had control _over jobs and funding. The man rather liked his job on the days in which he didn't have to deal with the faculties or the students. This happened more regularly than people thought. As Sue Sylvester went over his head for all the things that she wanted anyway and William was often in his own little world. So in the Indian man's bottom drawer there's a half knitted woolen jumper just waiting to be finished. He clasps his hand together on the desk and tries different tact.

"Come now, you were young once. Anyway it's not as if people are going to be throwing rotten vegetables at the assembly."

The Spanish teacher looks up in disbelief.

"Oh yeah? Some of the football players still make fun of Kurt's clothing and Tina gets shoved around every time Mike's not around."

Principal Figgins expels a breath. When he had taken this job, they told him it would be stress free and his legs had been chafing from all those anti embolism stockings. Talk about restricting blood-flow! Now as he looks at the impassioned man opposite him, he knew that they had sugar coated it. High school was not easy. So he tries to explain, after all technically every teacher's job was on the line as well.

"Kurt is an unfortunate circumstance, I agree William. But Tina? It doesn't come as such a shock does it? I mean children can sense these _thing_s."

The last statement is said as he leaned forward with paranoid eyes skittering around. Confused, the music teacher asks.

"What things?"

"Evil…She's a vampire William."

The words are whispered like it was the most obvious thing in the world. There was genuine fear in the Indian man's features as he shrunk into his large leather seat. It was almost as if he expected something to jump out at him. Mr Schue held a blank expression as an awkward silence descended. _The principal actually believed in vampires! _Not knowing quite how to respond he returned to his reason from being in here.

"Right, well we still aren't doing this. It's not fair. Glee club is not going to voluntarily be the school's punching bag."

With that, Mr Schue stands and makes his way to the door. His hand is nearly on the handle when the other man's voice calls him back. There's a hint of desperation in his tone.

"Wait! Wait! Wait! William. What if the school paid you? What if we funded the glee club's trip to Nationals and the accommodation fees?"

The music teacher turned back around and crossed his arms. He asks doubtingly.

"Does the school even have that sort of money?"

The principal shrugs, leaning back. He knows that he's got the other man's attention now.

"Well since the championship win last year the football team now has boosters of their own in the community. Sue, I don't _even_ want to know where she gets her money. So their budgets are to be reallocated."

Mr Schue retakes his seat. It is a sign that he's ready to listen. Principal Figgins extends his hand for a handshake.

"Do this, help me fix this situation before the PTA hears about it and the funds are yours."

The music teacher doesn't need to think about it. Last year they had been lucky that Terry had had a miraculous change of heart otherwise they wouldn't have made it at all to Nationals. The airfares were just too expensive and the hotel rooms too popular. Mr Schue closes his eyes for a second. He knows that the group wouldn't be happy about this. They wanted to go through their senior year in peace without any social splashes but the offer is just too good to pass up. The Spanish teacher thinks that it's his duty to get them to the competition and they'll forgive him for this embarrassment at the end. He moves to his full height and shakes the principal's hand.

"Deal."

/

"Alright, guys, let's settle down. I know we've all been busy thinking about how we are going to afford Nationals and now with what Figgins has asked us to do for the assembly – "

The music teacher is interrupted before he can finish his sentence. Rebuttals come out like rapid fire from all occupants of the room. Finn speaks out.

"Mr Schue we can't do that! We'll be painting ourselves as targets."

A chorus of agreement follows, fueling the next person.

"We get made fun of enough already."

Tina adds meekly. Mike places an arm around her, attempting to provide some comfort. Kelsey looks mortified by the situation as she murmurs lowly with blank eyes.

"I knew it. Joining glee was going to destroy my social life. Sue was right."

Santana, Brittany and Quinn can't help but snort; they take turns in patting the girl's shoulder in camaraderie. It was an inside jokes of sorts as they had all gone through that state of mind. Perhaps it was the one thing Coach Sylvester had actually gotten correct about the singing group. But the fact that the redhead seemed to stay put in her chair assures them that she's serious about her commitment and that she is a team player.

"Stopping the slushies, it wasn't easy Mr Schue. Us doing _this, _is like poking a bear with a stick. The natives _are_ going to get angry. We just need to be careful…like with which songs to pick."

Quinn tries to explain. The truce that had settled was fragile at best. In fact, a part of her had been surprised that everything even worked out in the first place. However, unlike the others, she's not refusing to do the assembly performance. A person would have to analyze her use of words carefully but all she was trying to say was to be _cautious_. Her seat is right next to Rachel's and she holds the singer's hand in her lap. In the past, Quinn Fabray would have rejected the concept of putting herself out there because it was stupid and asking for punishment. Now, it's more about the girl next to her. The softball payer can sustain the taunts and jeers if it shows the world and _her girl _that it's not a crime to wait. It's not shameful to just _not be ready_…

Santana's voice jumps in from the side.

"OK, Q might be willing to do this but there is no way I'm gots to put my sweet butt out there to sing about abstinence. I mean who's going to buy that, I've slept with half the school."

"Me too."

Brittany adds effervescently. She and the Latina share a smile. Their sordid histories are acceptable because they've gotten _to this point_ now; the time in their life when they're exclusively together, in love and accepted by the people that matter. Artie watches the duo sadly before turning away. He manages to say as his memories take him back to that fateful duet competition.

"We've all done it already."

"That's not true…"

Rachel whispers under her breath as she speaks to the ground. Only one person hears her. It's the same person who registers the brunette's nerves and increasing tight grip. Quinn leans into the singer and squeezes back just as hard, if only to communicate…_I'm still here…I'm always going to be._ The blonde is concerned by the direction of the group's conversation but she doubts that she can stop it. Although for a certain diva, she's always going to try anyway.

"Maybe we should consider it. Mr Schue? You were saying something about money?"

Mr Schue looks the Quinn gratefully before speaking.

"Figgins has volunteered to give us the money for hotel suites and transport to New York for Nationals again this year."

It almost doesn't seem like a strong enough argument but the girls receive some unexpected help. From across the room Finn notices how Rachel's shoulders are slumped and how she tries to hide behind her long brown hair. And with Quinn's caring expression he starts to understand. The footballer sees that the softball captain is more concerned about this moment, than she's ever been about any reputation or slander. He notices how the grip the diva has on the blonde is cutting off circulation, but the taller girl never moves a muscle. A person would probably never figure out that the pressure was painful. Finn runs through the list of reasons for their behaviour and in a rare second of focus it dawns on him. Rachel hadn't gone through with sex that night with Jesse. She's still… _He finally_ realizes what Quinn is trying to protect her from.

Sometimes, Finn thinks that the blonde _just _might have been playing the guardian role all along: with the song and Santana last year at Nationals, with Kelsey and the slushies this year and by _always_ cleaning up his mistakes. But maybe now, he could do his part. The tall boy clears his throat.

"As the co-captain of the glee club I think we should it. I mean as a group there's no song we can't rock out. Plus, we could probably use the practice."

Perhaps his vigor was a bit much because it sets of the alarm bells in Santana's mind. Her bloodhound instincts jump in and deep down she detects something is up. Her gaydar was awesome, but her ability to detect secrets had pinpoint accuracy. Quickly, her gaze flickers between; _Rachel, Quinn and Finn. _Then just _Quinn and Rachel. _Followed by_ Rachel and Finn. _When nothing catches her attention she leans back in her seat in defeat but then something moves in the corner of her sight and she thinks about how unbelievably silent the singer_ has been in this conversa – …oh!_

"Wait a minute Berry, are you a still virgin?"

The lack of sounds is deafening. Having no choice, the diva looks up. Her arms would have been crossed automatically in defense if it hadn't been for the pale hand that makes calming trails along her knuckle, fingers and palms. The blonde's presence is Rachel's quiet strength.

"Quinn, you haven't tapped that yet?"

By accident or on purpose, Pucks destroys that notion in a matter of seconds. The singer clenches her jaw and finds it hard to swallow. She lets go of the blonde's hand and minutely leans away assuming a closed of stance. Quinn ignores the fact that that small action is worst than any punch to the gut and looks across in alarm. The brunette hates herself because it's not the pianist's fault, not at all. When they are _together_, they never really remember how far they get. However Rachel does recall the desire and unspoken need to go further, to do more because they don't want to stop. But they do. There's a barrier that the diva can't get past and she always hesitates because of it. Small doubts and insecurities flood through the crevices of her mind. Rachel distinctly recalls being adamant outspoken and loud. _Girls want sex just as much as guys do._ She wonders if she really actually understood her own words or if she blinded by her desire to impress a certain boy…

The singer breathes deeply and she has trouble controlling the tiny quiver in her bottom lip. _Quinn hasn't called her on it, _for what Rachel had said in the past. And it brings a fresh wave of guilt and shame. The brunette thinks of how close they get, how excited and how unbelievably lost they get in the pleasure generated by touch. Then she's reminded of how the pianist holds her, so closely, warmly and _lovingly_ every time after they reach Rachel's limit. She felt so safe when that happened. But now with Puck's statement, for the first time the diva feels discomfort.

Quinn Lucy Fabray loves Rachel Berry. The blonde is considerate, talented and beyond definition of pretty. The singer can't help but wonder if there was something wrong with herself. Why can't she move their relationship forward? Does the pianist ever feel lead on or resentful in their interactions? The diva plagued with the idea even when she should and even when she had no reason to. It is sad to say but Rachel's brain had always been hardwired as such. In her internal admonishments she doesn't realize one single fact, that because of the depth of their attachment, the blonde will only be ready when she is.

"Shut up Puck."

The blonde hisses from her position. By now she is on her knees in front of the diva trying to get a clear picture of those brown eyes. She needs to _see and understand_ what her girlfriend is going through because she can't stand not helping at the very least they can weather this together. The pianist admits, she does already understand. It's true, hormones and peer pressure makes it impossible to abstain. But nobody ever talks about the persecution of those who keep their purity. Quinn theorizes that it has something to do with self-hate and jealousy, to bring them down to the same level. It reminds the blonde of her reasons towards the brunette when they had first met._ All she could think were "you're not better than me." _A wistful smile makes its way on her face. She'll never quite be able to figure out when she started to fall in love with that trait. Now _all she wants to do is protect that…_

Being a Cheerio, being popular, it gave one the thick skin that was necessary to brush off the insults and the pressures of high school. It had given the blonde the ability to ignore Rachel's sad disappointed looks… at the start. But then again Quinn was never a very good Cheerio. It was plausible that in the singer's isolation she didn't develop that same ability, instead going to the other extreme, to care too much. The softball player can read the embarrassment in her eyes and she whispers reassurances into their combined hands before glancing up. 

The fierce rage in her expression hit Puck square in the chest. It is a look he hadn't seen since that morning after, when the blonde first realize what they had done at the party and what she gave up. His eyes widened and he raises his hands in surrender.

"Hey no harm intended. But wow, I would have thought you two would have got it on by now."

He cringes when the words leave his mouth. It didn't come out as he intended and he feels a blow to the back of his head. When he turns around, he'll see a frowning Brittany and a menacing Santana. He'll wonder when the girls got so close only to see that it didn't matter.

Sam speaks from his corner.

"Leave Rachel alone. She's right the glee club could use the money for Nationals and she is not the only one who hasn't done it yet."

There's a forced threat in his tone and Quinn mentally thanks him for his effort. The handsome boy was not the type to be violent. And even when his hand had been forced, it was just light shoving. Still, the admonishment seemed to be the final nail to the coffin because Noah bristles. The stares of the room had become reprimanding and disappointed. Puck feels as if the whole group was suddenly ganging up on him and he doesn't like it. The mohawked boy had beat up many others for less. But in his hurt pride, he retorts the only way that he can. The footballer is jerks towards the fashionable young man and the disinterest redhead in the back row.

"Yeah Kurt and baby Jekyll over there! But we all know that once Kurt and Blaine figure out the mechanics they'll be doing it like rabbits. And Kelsey's going to get some as soon as her mother stops spying on her."

Kurt releases a tiny squeak at the vulgarity of the delinquent's vulgarity whilst Kelsey just rolls her eyes. She thinks that it's her debt to pay to brave the cracks and insults. It's certainly not easy but she dons that familiar uncaring armor. In moments like this when even in such a tight knit group the people can still hurt each other, it almost makes her reassess her reasons for being here. Was it worth it? But it was also in those moments of questioning, that she notices other things. Most of the group have banded together, casting supported glances to the golden couple. Finn tried to place an awkwardly comforting hand on their shoulders. And Puck has that look of conflict in his expression where he knows his mistake.

Quinn has turned Rachel around so that her taller figure shields the brunette from the focus of the others. She has the singer in the tightest embrace, trying to keep the tremors at bay. The smaller girl's head is buried into the crook of her neck and she just rocks them slightly, occasionally kissing the tops of that luscious brown hair. When everything quiets down she'll pull back slightly, taking in everything. The puffy eyes crying depiction of her girlfriend burns itself in her mind. She vows to…_rescue Rachel Berry from the High School dragons. _Wipes the tears of tan cheeks, she'll whispers in the diva's ear.

"Hey, hey Rachel! Look at me. Don't listen to him. You're ok. We are ok."

The room is suspended. Rachel is torn. One hand clings so tightly to Quinn's left wrist but her head flickers to the door. In the end a sad smile appears and she shakes her head slowly.

"I'm sorry, Quinn I have to go."

For a split second before the singer turns and runs from the room, there will be an accepting smile on her girlfriend's face. The pianist drops her grip and _lets her go_. It's exactly what Rachel needs but judging by Quinn's robotic stance, it's easy to see that it's not what she wanted to do. _So,_ only a select people will ever understand why she did it. But as the singer runs to the ladies toilets on the second floor, she figures it out. Pushing the door open and looking around. Her fingers trace the white ceramic washbasins and the cubicle that she seemed to prefer. And sliding down to the floor, she's greeted with memories.

_The first time she understood that Quinn was more than who she pretended to be._

_Last year's prom night._

_The conversation that had occurred after she had run away after Mr Schue handed the Sectionals solo to Mercedes. She remembered gaining so much that day._

_And when Quinn found her that day to end slushying at McKinley. _

She figures it out, because the blonde had to have known that she was always going to come here...

/

Back in the choir room, several comments are thrown around. Finn glares at Puck.

"That was harsh dude."

Tina looks to the door worriedly.

"Is Rachel going to be ok?"

Sooner or later though, their focus returns to the blonde still standing in her position. She hadn't moved a muscle, her eyes attached to the door, which had slowly slammed. Then, without warning she turns around. The softball player takes the necessary steps until she's right in front of the boy with the Mohawk. Puck swallows noticeably; his face a mixture of guilt and fear. Pausing, the pianist looks diagonally to Zizes.

"Lauren, may I?"

The wrestler has disappointed and angry eyes as she looks at her partner. She then nods to Quinn.

"Go ahead."

The permission shook the proclaimed 'badass' to his core. It is with the defeat and displeasure in his girlfriend's tone that he feels the complete weight of his actions. _What had he done to his fellow Jew?_ Strong features get contorted into thought. The defiance drains from his expression and he _really thinks about it because he _must have known all along. He considers how restrained the diva was when they had made out; the intricate yet firm over the bra rules. Puck hadn't meant to…

Looking at his own hands, he turns them into fists with self-loathing. He goes their little conversations where he got to meet the lovable girl underneath the determined shell. He recalled how Rachel had once come to him with a question about sex before she was going to perform "Push it" in assembly. The boy had never told anyone, but that was actually the first time he talked to the brunette. She had inundated him with curiosities and leading questions about his boy, Finn. He was going to laugh her off with a jeer but then he had remembered his promise to his Nana to be nicer. So back then, in a rare moment of kindness he saw her insecurities and warned the girl to wait for the right person… because _girls always cared about that sort of stuff right? _And now, he had been callous, mean about that very fact.

In the background, the delinquent hears Quinn thank Lauren. He glances up and in seconds his head snaps back from the force of the slap. The other glee clubbers gasp in their various states of surprise. Slowly, his hand goes to check his jaw. He keeps his head down and almost hopes that the pianist would do it again, not for perverted reasons but because the shame as eating at his insides. And he _didn't_ feel forgiven yet.

Quinn must have seen something redeemable in him because she steps back and shakes her head to herself. Her voice is commanding and everyone listens in rapture. Out of everyone in the room she's the only one with a compass for direction.

"Look, I know that a lot us have already had sex and may not think that it is a big deal _but_ how many of us can honestly say that our first time was with someone we love? If you can, then I am happy for you. The most of us have regrets. So, we're doing this, we'll pick a song and we'll perform it. Maybe they can learn from our mistakes."

Santana takes a look at Brittany. The two girls lift their combined pinkies and they know that their captain is right. They had regrets that their firsts were not with each other. So they nod and say yes, they'll sing. Sam and Mercedes whisper something before agreeing. With that, the group patches themselves back together, becoming a family again. Quinn turns to the music teacher.

"Mr Schue may I be excused?"

"Sure."

/

"Quinn!"

Halfway down the hall, the pianist stops at the call. Puck had his hands shoved in his pockets and a contrite expression. His back is hunched and he seems miles away from the cocky delinquent that everyone knew.

"I-I didn't mean for things to come out like it did. Sometimes my brain is just not with my mouth, you know?"

Quinn touches his shoulder gently. The softball player knew that the bulky boy was not malicious, just a little impulsive and hardheaded. She recalls how he helped shove back those that were bullying glee members and his silent support during the pregnancy. Softness finds it's way into her eyes, catching his attention. She speaks knowingly.

"I get it Puck. I'll tell Rachel that you're sorry."

"Thanks."

The sheepish grateful answer slips out.

/

In the deserted restroom, Rachel has her arms wrapped around her body defensively, attempting to keep it together. If she closes her eyes she can smell Quinn and pretend that it's her. The logical part of her brain knows that it's her own fault for walking away but the other fragile part questions what's taking the blonde so long. The brunette picks at the loose string to her sweater and finds imaginary split end to pass the time. All the while repainted memories, self-accusations and the taunting tone of past cheerleaders flow through her mind. This isn't the first time she's been jeered at for her lack of sexual experience. No, this is _just the first time she had cared…_

_But why?_

"If I asked you not to overthink it…would you?"

A familiar soft voice flows through the room. The pianist is leant against the doorjamb, her compassionate eyes warmly remind the diva of safety and sanctuary. In that very image, Rachel is conflicted, she wants to run into those ready arms and yet she needs the space to breathe. Pressure is at all sides and if she's too close to Quinn she'll be thrown into a tailspin of confusion and notions of inadequacies. _And somehow the pianist seems to understand, not moving from her position. _The softball player has a worried hand in her short hair and the other fiddling with her white lace skirt. She looks _nervous?_

It doesn't fit the usually poised girl who commanded McKinley. However it does place perfectly with the personality of _the singer's girlfriend_. Over the months Rachel has learned so many things about the ex-cheerleader and she finds herself looking forward to their time together for reasons different from the mainstream. In small conversations and feather light touches, the taller girl lets some strange character slip through the cracks. This person less reserved, philosophical and _most importantly still entranced by Rachel Berry_. It occurs to the smaller girl that the softball player _has _changed, in a good way.

_But again, where did that place the brunette, herself?_

With what had been said in glee, Rachel felt as if somebody had finally snatched away her rose colored shades. She had been sheltered in her own little determined world for so long and she doesn't want to be kept in the dark anymore. She starts to see how much _everyone had changed_ since the first year. Tina had become confident enough to give up her fake stutter. Santana had come out, to Brittany, to her family and to anyone who had cared enough to ask. Kurt was considering joining the running for class president. Puck was actually drafting very realistic plans to expand his pool cleaning business and Mike was singing as if he had been all his life. In a world of growth, Rachel has never felt more stagnant, useless and left _behind._

After all, she thinks that she's still the same girl she has always been. Because without Quinn, Rachel is _still _loud, arrogant and slightly dismissive to those she thought didn't merit her precious attention. She is still doggedly competitive and wants all the solos. _She is still…a virgin._

When she looks to the door, the blonde isn't there anymore. The minutes must have elapsed when she hadn't been paying attention. For a moment a very real fear and hurt flooded her being that maybe, _just maybe _the pianist had decided that she didn't want to put up with her tirades anymore, that Quinn might not want her anymore. As irrational as experience informs her that the idea is, she can't help but be filled with joy when she hears that soft lilting tone again.

"I didn't think that you would…"

Rachel's head snaps in the direction of the sound. Opposite her, Quinn has made a home against the opposite wall with her legs stretched out. She is non-threatening and just there, present and accessible. There is hesitation in her movements when it seems as if she's about to lean forward to hand the singer a box of tissues and wipe away the tears. However then, a tiny frown appears when she remembers the reasons for being here in the first place. Instead, she slides the box over, leaning her head back on the linoleum walls. And although, Rachel feels emptiness in the absence of the blonde's touch but she can't help the relief that grabs her expressions. The diva does not miss the brief flash of hurt in those hazel eyes before it is mixed with understanding again and she clenches her jaw.

"God, what is wrong with me? Everyone has done it. You're perfect, but I – Puck was right, there must be something wrong with me."

There's a companionable silence. Rachel wrestles with her issues and Quinn takes the opportunity to observe. Her face becomes more and more concerned but when moisture begins to gather, the pianist intervenes.

"Fist of all, you should never start a sentence with Puck was right."

It is said in a joking tone and the singer lets out a choked laughter. Some tension dissipates and breathing is just a little bit easier. She holds the pianist's eyes.

"And second…"

Quinn pauses, she seems to think hard as she looks away. A series of indiscernible emotion pass through her face before she draws her legs to her chest and whispers lowly.

"Love…it isn't sex…you know?"

There's desperation in her eyes and she tries to make the singer believe. It is as if she is trying to drive the point home just by sheer will alone. Rachel feels the sadness wash over her and she stops revisiting. She stands and moves next to blonde and joins their hands. A current travels along their bodies creating a light humming within their cells. Suddenly they don't feel so alone in this anymore and even though their issues about sex are very different if seems like they are going to end up in the same place.

Quinn turns their hand around in her lap and makes circles over the singer's skin, staring in wonder as goose bumps form. It gives her the ability to say what needs to be said. She looks at the singer with a sad energy.

"When I was 5, I went to church with my mom and dad. There was a woman having a child out of wedlock."

Rachel nodded, encouraging the taller girl to continue. A tear slides down porcelain cheekbones, and the pianist shakes her head roughly with the nest statement.

"Nobody would go near her, as if God would personally strike them down for her _indiscretions_."

By now, Quinn isn't really seeing anything anymore, becoming a little lost. Rachel feels her breath become stolen away by the glazed hazel eyes, the blonde is perfectly still like a Greek statue. The pianist was really still _so pretty and apparently so complicated. _The singer can feel minuscule trembles through their handheld connection. Her eyes close as she leans her head back. She stops focusing on the softball player, giving her the anonymity she silently pleads for.

"Turns out she was just a girl, in her last year of high school."

The story sounds hauntingly familiar. The ex-cheerleader shakes her head as if to say, 'no she wasn't talking about herself.' However, a stormy look descends instead, as the subsequent part comes to light

"Her boyfriend had been pressuring her to have sex, because, he was heading to Ohio State and she was going to Brown. They were going to try to make the long distance thing work."

The last statement is said bitterly and with so much venom. Rachel leans into the pianist, bring calming feeling. Quinn pauses. Her face displays an expression of awe, as if she had always wondered how lights drove the shadows away. Some stability returns to her voice. She places with tan fingers.

"So she did it. One afternoon they just rented a hotel room got over it."

Rachel can't help but flinch at the short, disinterested and clinical way the scene is described. She can't help shake the feeling that the pianist is trying to tell her something. Quinn pulls the singer closer so that the diva is kind of sitting in between her legs. Strong arms wrap around a slim waist.

"I remember walking over and asking her what was wrong. And she smiled to me, it looked _so sad_. She told to _always _remember that sex wasn't love."

The words, which were so simple in their definition, reverberate in the diva's mind. She begins to feel better…until she doesn't. The soothing effect doesn't last because if it was so easily understood then why did society, let alone all teenagers rebel against the concept? Quinn's hold tightens and she doesn't school her features. The softball player shows Rachel the tortured parts of her past, hoping for some kind of epiphany on the brunette's part and maybe even perhaps acceptance of the blonde's mistakes. Maybe the diva could show her how to _feel untainted._ So she continues her explanation.

"Rachel…somewhere along the lines, I forgot that. And maybe it was Cheerios or my need to be head bitch but I had sex with the nearest guy that cared at the time."

The brunette cringes because from what she had always understood of her girlfriend, Quinn had always been perpetually isolated. She hadn't trusted other girls in case they were after her popularity and she couldn't trust boys because they had been repeatedly disappointing. So in Rachel's imagination she can imagine the scene and it seems every sort of wrong. The diva can't help but want to apologize for not seeing past her own baseless judgments a the time and finding the blonde sooner. Quinn leans forward kissing the shorter girl's temple.

"I think, I was lonely, but I cried after it happened. Something inside me changed after my night with Puck and it wasn't what it should have been. I felt cold, like I actually _lost something."_

The husky voice breaks and tears slip down both their faces. The softball player lifts both the singer's hands to her lips, pressing a chaste kiss. At this point she just wants to be close to something pure. Reverent touches follow and she smiles gently. The diva stays, still not wanting to leave the moment. Rachel falls in love all over again. It scares her how important _knowing Quinn Fabray _is to her ability to function. But the softball player doesn't stop there. She pushes forward, handing out her secrets to the brunette that wants to listen.

"Rachel, I've always respected you for having the strength to stand by your convictions. But before Puck or Santana today, did you honestly feel like we were missing something?"

The question is deceiving with its importance. Rachel whispers with absolute certainty.

"No."

Quinn nods. The brunette thinks that those hazel eyes look disarmingly optimistic. She lets the blonde move closer. Their foreheads are almost touching and they can feel the warm tickle of each other's breathing. When the pianist speaks her lips would sometimes brush the soft surface of diva's ones. A pale hand slides to cup Rachel's cheek, thumb making small circles. It's comforting, familiar and astoundingly easy. The softball player says the next point in that manner in which people are compelled to listen because one can feel the quiet force of her emotions, of her faith.

"Believe me, Rachel, we are going get there someday and it will be amazing because we will _both_ be ready. It'll be all about us, and it won't be complicated. The thought of it, wont make you feel like this."

The blonde touches where she knows the tattoo of her name to be. Rachel gasps. So much time has passed that her skin is completely healed and she is no longer hypersensitive to that area. However when Quinn makes contact, an infusion of responses occur in her and the singer feels like she fully belongs to the girl in front of her. Her entire being converges to the point of pressure and she surrenders to the fluttering in her stomach. The raising of small hairs on the back of her neck tells her that she is home. It is also in that spot that the pianist can feel the pounding of the diva's heart, responsive, erratic and uncontrolled.

Rachel looks up, placing a sweet slow kiss on the taller girl's lips, whispering her deepest affections.

"I love you."

Bring the singer into a tight embrace Quinn smiles into the diva's hair.

"I know."

When they pull pack, Rachel asks quietly, trying to soften her request.

"Can I just be alone for a while, Quinn?"

It isn't rejection but a need for space to work through her issues. And as much as the pianist dislikes the idea she knows that she can't protect the diva from everything. It is just that today the lessons are larger and happening more frequently than most. The ex-cheerleader nods, she hadn't expected an easy resolution. The rest was not hers to decide, she could step backwards and wait. So she squeezes Rachel's hands on last time.

"Take your time."

With that she leaves. Her presence is missed instantaneously but the brunette does not follow. She knows by the pianist's forced movements, that walking away was hard enough; Rachel refuses to make it any worse. If one could get under Quinn's armor, then they'd find the blonde's capacity to care. They'd find that she'd go to unexpected lengths to protect the qualities that make a person, like Brittany's desire to believe in fantastic characters and Santana's intermittent remission from isolation and undirected loathing. So, the singer tells herself that she will figure this out before their next interaction. _It was hurting the both of them._

/

Looking around, the singer has always known herself. She knew her values, goals and virtues. She was under _no illusions _about her focused nature and effects on others. But nothing explains the sliver of insecurity that tugs in her mind. Memories replay, presenting different and random segments where she hadn't thought about what she was doing, saying, _and singing. _In those brief flashes, lies a life beyond the scripted words. The brunette would realize that she was wrong. Like the others, it seemed that she had to have grown as well. By revisiting various scenes, the small actions stand out. The old Rachel Berry _couldn't_ joke around with Mercedes, as if they had always been friends. The old Rachel Berry _would have_ sent Kelsey to a place worse than an inactive crack den. The old Rachel Berry probably couldn't imagine actually enjoying Santana's sarcastic company.

To put it simply, the old Rachel wouldn't date Quinn Fabray.

And so if she _has _changed so many things already, the diva thinks that she should change her stance on sex, too. When she has her hands braced on the sink and when she is looking into the mirror, the singer thinks a couple of thoughts.

_I'm eighteen... I'm ready._

_It's what people do when they are in love... I'm can do this. _

_It is for the best... It's time._

It completely escapes her notice that she had to tell herself three times for it to _even begin to_ feel right.

/

_Come over to my house…Please, Quinn, I don't want to be alone right now. – Rachel_

Two days later, the text message appears on the blonde's phone with a chime that nobody responds to. Instead, a group of girls are running across the field, trying to jump through the loops set up by Sue Sylvester. And whilst nobody with a scientific mind believes in faith or psychic connections, it is an inexplicable set of forces, which prompts a certain blonde to drop her bat and wander back to her belongings. In her wake, she leaves confused teammates and an irate coach. Brittany tilts her head curiously whilst Santana has a hand to her hip, appearing impatient. It was late; the stars had come out against darkening skies. However, most of the girls were just thankful for the abrupt albeit strange break.

Quinn clutched her head and unknowingly her feet start to pace. As she moves back and fourth, the blonde has her eyes closed, breathing deeply. She tries to quiet her worries but since _Rachel,_ controlling her emotions and remaining impassive has become a lot harder to do. Her heart beats faster at the thought of the brunette. Not for the first time since the bathroom moment, the pianist ponders her sanity. Why did she acquiesce to the singer request to be alone? It didn't make any sense anymore. In her haste to make things better for the shorter girl, they had been apart for the last two days. And during the seldom moments where they were together, neither could muster the courage to speak. After all, Rachel still couldn't figure out what she wanted, mind, heart and body at war. Could she? _Would she? _The pianist _still_ couldn't figure out a way to be there, and _not_ be a part of the problem. During such trying times, her presence would undoubtedly be a catalyst for pressure and further confusion.

A frustrated groan sounds out. She collapses onto the bench and her hands sift through her red duffel for her drink bottle, only to come across something else. Slender finger encase the thin phone and innately she knows that she should check her messages. Quinn doesn't believe in fate or psychic connections but she does believe in God. So she thinks that this is his way of answering her prayers. The singer's words of need make through busy thoughts, galvanizing her body into action. Without notice or explanation she picks up her belongings and walks away. She passes her friends who seem to be resigned to the notion of her leaving, giving her weak smiles of luck. They don't pretend to so dense that they don't know who was calling.

The pianist keeps moving; she gets a few meters before the amplified voice of Sue makes it to her ears.

"Q, get your pathetic left arm back here! We are not done yet. If I was to quantify how ridiculously unprepared you guys are for the championship, it could raise a ship. Sue Sylvester does not manage quitters. No – "

"I'm sorry coach. I have something more important to worry about…"

Quinn looks the older woman solidly in the eye, standing firm, commencing a silent battle of wills. A series gasps escapes various teammates, but _those that know_? They wear amused glances and smirks. Brittany gives a big toothy grin. Santana rolls her eyes at the dramatic scene that would occur and Kelsey does a small salute before retuning to the batting cage. With neither blondes quite willing to back down, the pianist eventually and very abruptly turns and heads to her car. She realizes that fighting Sue on this wasn't necessary, because _Rachel_ wasn't ever really up for the negotiation.

Sue watches the departing figure of her young second in command. She looks as if she's swallowed something distasteful. There were many things she admired about her "Q," however a backbone wasn't one of them. Whenever the softball captain developed _feelings_, a conscience and a mind of her own, it seemed to back fire on Sue. One day the coach thinks that she'll figure out why Buttchin's little diva seemed to always bring it out of her top girl. It defied the arrangements of social standing. Turning her head fast enough to give herself whiplash, she narrowing her eyes at the Latina and the dancer on field. She would get answers. Her concern for the team not withstanding, she _might_ also have a modicum of protectiveness over her player. _Q had a tendency going into volatile emotional situations head first, like joining glee and taking on the school for one measly brunette. _

"Captain Fakeboobs, Twinkle toes get over here!"

The two girls stare at the coach for a moment as if to deliberate the order. With dry and bored expressions they eventually stand to attention in front of the older women. It seemed time did make them wiser and neither could fathom why they had been so afraid of this figure all their lives. However the faint concern concealed behind crystal blue eyes and ugly snarl makes them consider the order.

"I want you to find out where that midget is keeping Q's girl stones and self respect. Then report back to me."

Santana snorts. It was probably an apt description of what was going on with the exception that she's sure her friend had surrendered control. She's pretty certain that it was never stolen. Brittany simply has a confused expression; she has her hands fisted as if she was ready to argue. However before she can say anything, her dark girlfriend is dragging her to the car park. Sue yells one more thing to their retreating backs.

"Oh and hurry it up, girls. I want you three back in front of me, before my bowels turn my gallstone into a diamond!"

Every girl cringes at the image. As Sue stalks back to her megaphone she shakes her head herself, muttering a string of words. The ex-cheerleaders on the team think it sound something like "too much high end pepper in the master cleanser." Their stomachs revolt at the thought.

/

Once Brittany is settled in the Latina's sleek new SUV, she starts to fidget. Santana pulls out of the school and pulls aside at the nearest parking bay out of the coach's sight. She turns in her seat to face the tall blonde, reaching for a hand and drawing comforting circles on pale knees.

"Brit Brit what's going on in that pretty little head of yours? I can literally hear it working."

The dancer looks up with a troubled expression.

"Are we really going to spy on Q and Rachy? Cos I don't want to."

The Latina seems to soften. If it were possible she'd say that the dancer's spirit made her heart swell with love, like in one of those old romance novels. However she's quite sure that the feelings were already in abundance in the first place. They had been since the girls were 4 years old. Santana had been antisocial, quiet and angry. She didn't want to share with anyone. Brittany had been persistent, kind and blissfully unaware. She didn't care if the other girl didn't want to share with her, she just wanted to hug and kiss the pain away, like how her mother had done for her boo boos. The little future dancer had been convinced that emotional sadness and physical cuts and scrapes were the same thing and that she could make it better. It had taken one minute for the Latina to crack a smile, two days for her to open up and on the fourth day she had decided that nothing was more important than the effervescent girl in front of her. Leaning over the console, she places a comforting kiss on the taller girl's lips.

"No of course not Brits. I just said that so Sue would leave Q alone."

The response sinks in and the usual cheerfulness is restored in the blonde. In perfect synchronicity the Latina swallowed forcefully as her mind clouds with heavy thoughts. A dark look is cast over her features and she doesn't notice the world. She barely registers the fact that Brittany has twisted and turned across the car to sit in her lap. It is the almost desperate worry in the kiss that brings Santana back.

"San, what's wrong?"

The sarcastic girl resists the natural inclination to shut down. Instead she takes a deep breath and looks up. The intensity of the gaze suspends them before the Latina manages to murmur.

"Do you regret it? Not being each other's firsts?"

Brittany feels her heart ache; she's never quite seen the Latina so unsure, so mournful of their past. It had happened over one summer a few years back. The girls had been forced apart on their respective family vacation. And as a product of loneliness they grabbed onto the nearest thing that would keep them afloat. It turned out that after the deed they didn't feel all that much. The boys they had been with hadn't been all that impressive, just another warm body, not all that different to a hot water bottle in the winter. The girls recall calling each other in the middle of the night, recounting their experiences with fake enthusiasm.

A silence descends. Slowly, the dancer would caress the Latina's cheeks warmly. She placed butterfly kisses everywhere and spoke with astounding clarity.

"I guess so. I mean I was sad when you called me that night. I didn't really understand it, but I knew what we both did was bad and I _could _hear you crying on the other end. But it shouldn't control how we are now."

"What do you mean?"

Santana asks. They don't say a word about the tears sliding down her face. Brittany smiles gently, moving a stray dark lock behind the Latina's ears.

"Well I guess it doesn't matter. You could have made out of Dave Karofsky and I still think that that is gross by the way. But it wouldn't matter cos we're together now…Maybe I didn't get to love you first…I'm pretty sure, I will love you _best_."

Brittany's words are everything the Latina is searching for: forgiving, caring and sincere. It wraps itself around her mind causing warmth to flood through her entire being. Santana hates that she's crying so much but is at the very least, happy that it is the dancer who sees. Car windows fog up and they give each other lessons about how to love someone _best, _a symphony of gasps and moans_. _

/

Quinn stands outside of the singer's bedroom door, still in her softball uniform. Part of her worries about the dirt and grime she's carrying into the house but mostly she just tries to stamp down her anxiety. In the car, various scenarios and expectations had overcome her though none of them seemed to fit as she straightened her clothing out. Her imagination was either too hopeful or too harsh. It seemed that she needed to the diva to find that perfect in between. The blonde hopes that the message is a sign that maybe Rachel could _need her too_. Her heart pounds she knocks, turning the doorknob and going in.

"Rachel? Are you ok? I got your text message."

Words are sent into the dark. The blonde reaches to switch on the lights but a warm hand stops her. Instead fingers are interlaced held against the wall. The softball player feels a soft weight press against her and quite effectively she's trapped. From the lingering effects of an afternoon sports session, her body responds acutely to _any touch_, surging with adrenaline. Amongst it all, she tires to find her voice of reason.

"Rache – "

Full lips press insistently against hers. Tongues automatically come out to greet each other and _for once_ it is a fight for dominance. There's an urgency that _used _to be controlled. Now, desires that had only previously been thought about _become_ very real. Rachel's slow exploration of the pianist neck creates torrent of sensations that doesn't leave room for _breathing _let alone thinking. They both just know it's going to leave a mark. The singer is thorough, moving with purpose from the spot behind Quinn's ear to the base collarbone. Gasps surround her ears and she's pulled deeper into that haze where nothing else matters except the taste of pale skin mixed with a light hint of sweat. Her tongue makes a flicking motion to the hollow of the pianist's throat. The blonde's hips buck automatically in response.

By now, the softball player has her eyes closed and head hung. As Rachel's left hand slides under her sports tee, Quinn recognizes that she won't win this. Her muscles jump to meet the feather light fingertips that dance across her abdomen. The groan she releases is a cross between feminine etiquette and animalistic imperative. There's a pause and the pianist is lucid enough to hear the pants in the background. Reaching out in the dark in an attempt to touch her her girlfriend, the blonde ties to picture what Rachel would look like. The diva would have dark eyes, wild hair and kiss-swollen lips: a masterpiece of imperfect control. However, the ex-cheerleader is disappointed, as she feels nothing but air. The shorter girl has stepped away and in a pitch-black room, Quinn _can't actually _follow.

Suddenly, a mental image isn't enough anymore. The blonde feels the anxiety creep back and she needs to see the brunette's face. As clarity returns after passion, the pianist's hand goes to touch the blazing trail left on her neck. It didn't feel right and she starts to recognize the signs of misdirected desperation.

The softball player reaches again for the light switch. She's been around the singer to know exactly where it is. Lights flicker for a moment before stabilizing and the revealed sight makes her shoulders drop. Rachel is curled up against the headboard of the bed with her knees drawn up to her chest, _scared and confused. _Quinn sighs, she thinks that she remembers the feeling. Soundlessly, she grabs her letterman that she just _knows_ is under the smaller girl's pillow and moves behind the diva. The slightly oversized jacket covers them like a protective blanket as she wraps her arms around that slim waist. Quinn rocks their bodies comfortingly, running her fingers up and down the brunette's arms. She starts to hum a familiar tune and in that moment Rachel can't help but think that the blonde sings wonderfully.

It calms the worry, self-doubt and anger that gnaw on her insides and her mind pours over a great many. Although the leftover arousal makes it harder to think, the singer is almost catatonic, lost conflict of wants inside her mind. The supposed logical argument commands her faculties. She loves Quinn. When two people are in love, sex is the inevitability. Thus they should advance their relationship to that level. It all seemed so simple. However, looking down at her hand the diva can feel the resistance in her body. Rachel cherished the sound that had escaped the pianist lips, minutes ago. So as the blonde's soft voice continues the makeshift lullaby, Rachel focuses on that thought.

Slowly but surely she turns her head to the side and presses a kiss on the corner of her girlfriends lips. Upon contact Quinn stops singing, staying still, she didn't want to wreck anything. The elation she feels at Rachel's return to consciousness is communicated by glances and fleeting touches. The diva moves between the softball player's legs until they're face to face. A tan hand lands on sharp defined cheekbones. The ex-cheerleader leans into the touch and the diva is _only _thinking about how much she's missed this. Belayed greetings transmit through the air and her only thought is _how much she's missed Quinn. _There's a soft sad smile on their faces. Distance really wasn't good for either of them.

The barely there kiss morphs into something else as Rachel tongue runs against the blonde's, this time asking for permission. It seems more like a proper courtship now. An undeniably unhurried rhythm settles. The experience becomes less about taking but more about basking and exploring…together. Rachel places little pressure on the blonde's shoulder, causing them to fall back onto the comforter. The singer is straddling the taller girl and light golden tresses splayed out like a halo against her sheets. The diva's breath hitches because the pianist is _so perfect. _

With silent awe, she lets her left hands trace every feature: lips, ears, cheekbones, the defined nose and jaw. If the singer suddenly lost her sight the next day, it wouldn't make that much of a difference because she's memorized _everything._ Her other hand grips the softball player's hip. Quinn follows the movements made on her skin with vivid focus. The cloudy haze over her hazel orbs might make it hard to see her emotions. _This time, _the blonde doesn't want her soul to be hidden away. Her hands go behind the diva's neck playing with dark baby hairs and pulling her head down for a deeper fusion of their mouths. The communication is non-verbal and entirely too subjective. But then again, she supposes that Rachel's interpretations of _her personality _had always been strangely accurate. So she trusts that her intentions wouldn't be misconstrued.

The hand at the pianist's hips toy with the waistband of McKinley's tiny running shorts before gathering the confidence to move north. Brief grazes move across the various ribs, eliciting a slight gasp. Smiling, Rachel lifts the sports shirt up. Prompts aren't really necessary as Quinn sits up to help the process along, leaving her in her sports bra. Her movement causes her thigh to shift slightly and she feels a damp warmth on her leg, followed by several fast inhales. The brunette's grip on her tightens. Experimentally, the pianist makes a small movement again, drawing a low moan. Hazel eyes widen, she had forgotten the power the singer's voice had not her.

With rapidly reddening cheeks, Rachel appears embarrassed as she looks away. She feels a cool hand guide her chin back. Quinn shakes her head slightly as if to say _not to worry, _kissing her on the lips and along her neck. For some unknown reason, the vibrations of the diva's throat fascinated the blonde and she becomes hypersensitive to the downward jolts it creates. Pale hands go under the shirt and after a lingering gaze, _under the bra. _With brown and hazel eyes locked, her thumb makes small circular movements around the areola. The blonde wonders if thinking in scientific terms would make her desire easier to control because the only thing that seemed important to her was to divest the both for them of their clothing. However that would be rushing things, and she just terrified that that would feel like pressure. The thought is thrown out of her mind when the singer collapses to her side as her elbows give out. Smoothly, Quinn slides on top, never ceasing her actions, only switching to the other breast. Rachel _arches into her with a whimper. _

Quinn seems for a second, hesitant, as her hands moved to grip the hem of the pink nighty. But before she knows it warm hands surround her and they remove it _together…_

Few things in the world can actually make the blonde stop in her tracks. A decade full of judgmental and alcoholic parenting eroded her ability to be surprised for the most part. However, the picture of her girlfriend underneath in nothing but simple white lace bra and panties, ignites in her a need to fall to her knees and worship. It is hard to believe that she is not only allowed to be near to, but also given such an innocent gift. Her hands slides down to the singer's navel, letting the smaller girl adjust before going lower.

Thighs clamp tight automatically. The pianist finger had only traced the outside of the underwear's wet material whilst fear entered brown orbs. Small tremors flowing through the singer's body, all signals of alarm, the fight or flight response. Rachel's eyes flicker around erratically unable to panic entering her mind, her muscles seizing. She starts to feel claustrophobic in her own skin.

"Hey, hey Rachel calm down. It's ok there's no pressure. Remember what I said, when we're _both_ ready."

Quinn's free hand brushes the diva's hair back to see her eyes. For a while, that is all the moment is, the blonde whispering assurances and drawing consoling motions with her talented fingers. The transition is subtle but the vice grip that her lower limbs have on the pianist start to loosen and the walls stop closing in. The softball player smiles with relief placing a soft kiss to the diva's forehead. She begins to pull back, going for their discarded shirts.

Rachel snaps and she can't identify any specific trigger. Maybe it is the complete lack of blame exhibited by the blonde. Maybe it is the fact that her body is far too excited, but the singer feels the retreat as if someone had ripped all the life away. And she thinks that she doesn't _want_ a break or space of any of it, so she grabs the softball player by the waist, pulling her back down. The unexpected force causes the pianist to fall on top of the diva, with their fronts pressed against each other. Currents run along both their figures and she's frozen, not quite sure how to proceed.

The decision, however, is taken away from her as her girlfriend tugs on her hair, smashing their lips together. The actions are so raw that the emotions roll of them in waves. Quinn thinks she can taste the frustration in the tears that roll down the shorter girl's face, mixing a sense of melancholy into the moment. A tan insistent hand forcefully returns pale ones to the apex of the diva's legs. Rachel continues her assault, gritting her teeth. It is so hard to keep her body willing and you can see the strain of her muscles. There's a need to prove a point, that her feelings were real and that she wasn't abnormal or frigid.

The blonde pulls back, taking a serious look down. From the self-directed anger her girlfriend carries to the desire that she secretes in Quinn's hand, the situation was such a contradiction with no chance of being resolved without some hurt. The softball player can feel herself quietly crying and Rachel opens her eyes wide as a tear hits her collarbone. She lifts herself up, forgetting her own issues for just a moment and kisses the pain away. And in that second, Quinn figures out the future.

_She learns that it is easy to love someone and to protect them from the world. However it's a different kind of love, a harder one that allows you to let your significant other make the mistakes that they are so damn determined to see through._

The blonde understands it all. Rachel _needed this; _she would feel patronized and restricted otherwise_. _She needed to learn for herself the difference and the lines between emotions and the physical. The brunette wants so badly to be ready.

And Quinn wants to give the smaller girl peace, love and everything she can offer. So while, she can't promise that now is the right time or that even if she, herself is the _right person;_ she will do her best to make sure that the evening does not turn into a regret. At the very least, Rachel will remember her first time was with somebody completely devoted to her in every way possible. She wouldn't be _alone_ in the mistake.

The pianist unclasps the diva's bra, lifting them away ever so slowly. She might be torturing herself with the pace but for the singer's serene composure, it's a small price to pay. This was one of the million reminders that this wasn't a passing craze…

Rachel has well sized round breasts that are often masked by the questionable reindeer sweaters and shapeless blouses. The pianist could spend the night simply marveling, simply discovering all the sensory neurons within them. The care that Quinn takes in grazing the bra-line and the undersides of the perky mounds makes the diva feel like one of the pretty girls. Because from the expression on the taller girl's face, Rachel's sure that she can control her. Or maybe she already has? After all, Rachel remembers the fact that Quinn had planned to wait longer. The steady thump in her chest jumps in response to the thought, the pianist really must be doing everything for her…

The ex-cheerleader's head descends and the brunette has her eyes closed. A warm puff of air hits the valley in between her breasts. Not nearly soon enough, a wet mouth encloses her nipple, tongue swirling methodically. Rachel's cells starts to thrum, and her hips writhe, needing some sort of friction. She can't quite believe the magnitude and the brilliance that the pianist was creating in her life, and in this makeshift bubble they've created. Quinn isn't really all that surprised when she finds that her girlfriend is a vocal lover, going high and low, depending on the pressure exerted and the location.

After conducting supplications to both sides, the softball player drags her lips down. Rachel can feel the unintelligible murmurs against her sensitive skin. She can't help but lean back on her elbows and be mesmerized. There's a magnetism to everything that the pianist does as she pays homage to the never to be seen places. Quinn is discovering Neverland, a place for her dreams. For a moment, all contact disappears and their eyes lock. _Thanks for loving me, because you're doing it beautifully. _It was the only thought both girls were capable of and the softball player presses the side of her head against the tattoo on the third rib up. To her unpracticed ears she can here the flow of blood and temporary dysrhythmia, a disruption in heart rate. Rachel arms go to hug the blonde's head to her abdomen, acclimating to the change. Thump, thump-th-thump goes the organ and during the pause, the aspiring doctor names the rapid set of heartbeats after her life's only constant, Rachel Barbra Berry.

The brunette squirms uncomfortably, the moisture saturating her undergarments now caused her thighs to stick together. The lingering need refuses to dissipates and as a result her fantasies begin to wander and she releases a choppy sigh. It is actually difficult to keep the scene pure when they were touching. The singer is so acutely aware of Quinn breathing shallowly through her nose and sketching designs on a tan canvas with her fingers. And _dear god, _those limbs are so talented. In her years, the diva felt the occasional stirring at various footballer player and perfect female specimens but never has she _hungered _like she did right now. Rachel wished she understood the messages that her body was sending to her emotions because maybe that would make her_ better_ for the blonde. She can recognize the supposed hot and cold game that she is playing but has no power to stop it. Something in those hazel eyes, tells her that the softball player has no ace in the hole, Quinn has decided to be _here_, wholeheartedly. A force squeezes the shorter girl's lungs and she tries to bulldoze passed whatever barriers that existed. For a certain blonde, she will try. Her feelings seem to pull her one way, fighting her body for rights to the moment.

Rachel lifts the softball player's head and smiles lovingly before kissing the hesitance away. The look of uncertainty won't have a chance to return the ex-cheerleader's face again for as long as the brunette is around. And she plans to be for a _very long time. _Love turns to passion and passion turns into a consuming need. Quinn's tongue is a little more insistent and the singer's sounds more directive. The pianist loosens the jail doors she has on her lust and allows her fingers the chance to reach its precious destination. Her absence has made the areas cool to touch and she moves her palm back and forth to create some warmth. The diva gasps, and clutches onto the ex-cheerleader's biceps. A drop of sweat slides down her neck and down her torso, taking the blonde's attention for a ride. When the simple pressure becomes _not enough, _she starts other hips start to move. Wonderment enters her eyes upon her own wanton motions. The pianist stare, even in such scenes, her expression is of awe and deep-rooted connection.

The excitement grows in her belly with pleasure and brilliance. Rachel chokes a smile, thinking that she really could do this. This could be the validation of her feelings for Quinn, as if she really needed one. The insecure part of her screams its importance, unfortunately that voice had become deafening these past few days. Her hips start to grind on that pale hand, opening the portal to a new experience and on the east of the rotations, knuckle and clit will meet, leading to an fiery heat to surge through her spine.

As quietly as the sinister worries crept before, it comes again as the singer gets progressively close to that white bliss point. Quinn watches with a sad understanding making sure to catalogue the last traces of pleasure in the shorter girl's features as facial muscles twist and fear renters the picture. The diva keeps her eyes open, gripping so tightly to the softball player as she makes her stand. Hazel and brown orbs lock, leading to an exchange of support and strength. She has a fierce concentration about her as she haltingly pushes her body to move, to _not shut down. _And maybe, for she's just not strong enough yet; maybe she's _just not ready, _because as hard as she rails against it and as much she _knows she loves Quinn, _all muscles in her body clamps down and she freezes up. Frustrated angry tears stream down her face. The diva thinks there is something wrong with her, that maybe she's broken or incapable down there. The haunting voices of her friends and classmates echo in her thoughts.

The scene is tragically beautiful.

Quinn doesn't say anything. In a swift act, she encloses the smaller girl in her arms, whispering and pressing butterfly kisses of comfort and reassurance. _It's ok, Rachel. Love isn't sex. We're not ready yet, but we will be someday. I'm here._ _It's ok. _The embrace is tight and protective in its nature but if the blonde was honest it was also so Rachel couldn't and hopefully wouldn't want to run away again. The softball player walks a mile in the singer's shoes and decides that she really can't handle her girlfriend walking away from her_ in any capacity, _not even when she promises to return. 

The pianist hasn't clung onto anything so strongly in her life. And even if Rachel's small hands beat and scratch against her body in efforts to distances herself and to wallow in shame, the blonde won't let go. She holds the singer in until all the fight and self directed anger drains out, until that very last hiccup that signals the end of tears. Vigilant and instinctive, the pianist has her girlfriend cocooned close to her body. Quinn prays for the time where the diva's dreams will descend and whisk away all the turmoil that clouds her girlfriend's pretty soul. She looks up to the ceiling for help, because in this second she _can't do this herself._

Eventually as she looks down at Rachel's' sleeping form, she notices that tan features are taut; brows crinkled, undoubtedly punishing herself with guilt. Quinn's hand _shakes_ with emotion and she places the faintest, longest kiss on the diva's forehead.

Rachel Berry is really something else entirely. The softball player loves through the pain because there's a sense of enlightenment in misery and she possesses a certain untouchable faith that they will last.

/

The next day, Quinn wakes up first, taking stock of her surroundings. Immediately, the memories flood back and she searches worriedly for Rachel. Upon seeing the smaller girl curled up beside her, the blonde's shoulders drop with relief. The fact that the lines in the diva's face had smoothed out over the course of the night, ignites a sense of optimism in the pianist. With the utmost care she disentangles herself to get out of the bed. She had morning practice and understood there would be repercussions to her walking off field yesterday. Quinn simply wanted to go before the diva found out and added one more thing on her list to berate herself about. The ex-cheerleader tries not to look at her girlfriend too much, knowing that her willpower was fleeting to begin with. She already missed the feel of the singer next to her so she writes a note. While she knows that she has to leave she'll never quite let Rachel wake up alone.

_Rachel. I'm sorry I had to leave so early. Morning practice, you know? Sue is being a cranky monster because of the upcoming game. She claims that the coach of the other team gave her chicken pox the last time they met. _

_I love you…and I have something for everyone to sing, in Glee. I've been working on it the last couple of days. _

_Please listen at the end, I mean every word…_

/

Quietly the blonde moves down the staircase to the front door, trying to avoid waking the residents of the homey house. However as her hand reached the lock, a voice calls behind her.

"Quinn, come on into the living room. Breakfast is on the table. Your walk of shame is still going to be there after we get some food in you."

The voice is slightly booming and jovial in its nature as Hiram ushers her into the kitchen. The man seemed to be in extraordinarily happy spirits but the blonde also had to admit that that seemed to the norm in the Berry household. It was something that she had always enjoyed about this family their ability to forgive, let go and just live. With undisguised sadness her thoughts drift to the singer and she looks up the stairs, where Rachel's bedroom would be. Leroy flips the last rashers of bacon and notices the air around his favourite young conversationalist. He hands the duties to his husband and motions for Quinn to speak.

The diva's alarm sounds and Quinn mentally slaps herself for forgetting to turn it off. There's a pained expression on her face and they're both momentarily distracted by the quick patter of hurried footsteps upstairs. Quickly, the softball player maintains eye contact with both parents and in a desperate heartbreaking plea, she would whisper.

"Please don't say anything to, Rachel…"

The men are taken aback but before they can even think to question, their daughter almost stumbles down the stairs in her haste. The diva's bedclothes are wrinkled, hair in disarray and eyes slight puffy from a night of crying. She had a slip of paper clutched in her hand as she catches the blonde's gaze. She was a combination of uncertainty, despair and confusion.

"Quinn, please _stay_…"

The blonde stares back with familiar warm worried eyes. They're in a stand still, with two adults who don't grasp what was going on. Closing her eyes, the ex-cheerleader resigns herself to the fact that she wasn't going to go to practice. She wasn't going to leave Rachel. Instead she drops her duffel and walks over; bringing the smaller girl into a hug. They cling to each other for a while, both finally relaxing in their own skin. A quiet sheepish voice speaks interrupts.

"Girls, breakfast?"

Happy for the distraction, they slowly move away, though not completely. Breakfast consists of tightly held hands on the table and light conversations about the past, present and future. What would they be doing today? Did Mr Schue get rid of that broken down car yet? How is the glee club going for Nationals? The leisurely domestic experience brings back a sense of equilibrium. Quinn is simply a girl enjoying the morning with her girlfriend's parents and they don't have the adolescent expectations of McKinley High to deal with.

Rachel's excited chatter is like the rain. It washes away the negative.

Quinn's soft laugh sounds like chimes on a door, a reminder of something new, and perhaps unexpectedly positive.

/

Later there's a silence in the choir room as everyone takes in the lyrics of the song. After being handed the sheet by Quinn during Spanish class, Mr Schue had agreed it was the best choice. However above that the music teacher feels as if he's finally making progress, a difference in the live of those charged to him. The pianist who had refused to ever be emotional and open to others had quite literally become their light in the dark, level headed, reasonable, and _honest. _It really was a beautiful piece, revealing the thoughts behind the main characters, emphasizing fear and sad regret. The song managed to sound cautioning without being judgmental. It would be a change from their usual pace and he really didn't need to ask what had prompted this. The determined brightness that had only existed after initiating a relationship with a certain brunette was unwavering.

Rachel stares at the words on the page, understanding its power and eloquence. She can appreciate the message and her heart races at the vulnerability that existed. It was as if she was gaining a deeper understanding of the blonde's psyche, as well as the figures that she used to think was oh so fearless and untouchable, Noah and Santana. All the footballers and the cheerleaders, they had always been pillars of sex in the school but it seemed that they weren't all that different. Bombastic and charismatic on the outside, they were protecting their secret backgrounds. Quinn words wrapped her in a sweet poignant attempt to rescue her from social pressure. And the diva looks up catching the softball captain's gaze.

_I love you... _

Puck scratches the back of his head, his handsome features arranged in a frown. Filled with guilt, his past behaviour is laid out bare. For a second, his eyes seem to blur with moisture before he gruffly blinks it away. _Delinquents don't cry. _And from Quinn's lost glances in his favourite Jew's direction, he knows that the song isn't aimed to harm him. He clears his throat uncomfortably, and the pianist looks his way. Frantically his mind blanks and seeing the tiredness of hazel eyes, he's reminded about what he had done that night. He doesn't know how to apologize, just that he _needed to_.

Quinn seems to get it because she nods to him and murmurs.

"I get it Puck. You thought you loved me at in the moment."

He manages to choke out.

"I'm so sorry."

His bad boy image shattered in an instant but nobody in glee was going to belittle him. It had been a long time coming. In their minds, the words on the page become a chance for redemption. However the peace that followed is disrupted by a Latina, who just walks out of the room. Brittany stands to follow, but Quinn holds up a hand. No, this was her responsibility. Her blonde hair is the last part of her in sight before she disappears into the hallway completely.

/

Outside the fiery sarcastic ex-cheerleader, paces angrily. Quinn leans against the lockers, waiting for some calm. Eventually, she faced with her friend, who gets into her breathing space.

"What the hells were you thinking Quinn? That is _my_ story, _my_ life on that sheet of paper. That was supposed to be between you, me and Britts only!"

Santana hisses. When the pianist remains composed and completely focused on _her, _she's so very tempted to slap her. The Latina hated it when people looked at her that way. Quinn's gaze had always seemed more piercing than most, dissecting her behaviour. Their innate understanding and similarities within their personality comes into play. And with that, Santana slows her breathing and does the same analysis on her friend. It was met with no resistance and she finds, concern, sorrow and non-threatening intentions. The Latina sighs and drops her stance.

"Nobody was ever supposed to know…"

She speaks softly in a tone that only one other person has heard her use. Quinn fiddles with the combination lock on some random locker.

"And nobody else will, if you don't want them to. You can take yourself out of the song; this is a request not an order. I don't have the right to tell you to do anything you don't want to."

She speaks clearly and definitively as her fingers practice some criminalist tendencies. Santana softens at the sight, she remembers teaching the blonde that trick. The thing is whilst they've fought she's always trusted in the pianist to make the hard decisions. She, herself, was often too busy with Brittany or too callous to consider anything outside of her inner circle. She remembers looking to Quinn when coach had volunteered the tall dancer for the cannon. So yeah, the pianist doesn't have the right to command her but the Latina respects the other girl enough that she doesn't need to half the time.

A click and the locker the softball captain had been working on popped open. She runs her fingers through her short hair in frustration. She couldn't seem to get rid of the disquiet in her stomach. And as a result she turns and her back slumps against the metal. She speaks to the air.

"God, can you believe how this all started? All this pressure?"

Santana rolls her eyes at the question, checking her hair in her compact. Quinn continues, knowing that her words aren't really falling on deaf ears.

"We were a few popular kids who made a mistake and couldn't admit it out loud..."

The Latina stops her movements, grinding her teeth together. The truth irritated her. It was always so confronting. Her blonde friend walks down the hallway, touching random things in random interest. Her voice still carried. Santana just really wished that it didn't.

"So we built the notion of sex up, made it seem normal and ostracized those that didn't join."

Quinn stands a little straighter, that leadership quality lacing her words and actions.

"It's time we finally stop lying. I love Beth, she's perfect, ten fingers and ten toes. But I _do_ regret how my first time happened. I mean, drunk on wine coolers? I was just mad that Finn wasn't paying attention to me…"

A surge of emotion appears on pretty pale features. And Santana really starts to pay attention. Quinn seems to whisper.

"People struggle with their virginity everyday and they should know that it isn't a crime to wait."

Low and behold, the driving force behind the pianist's actions. Santana shakes her head. She's amazed that in such a short time Rachel Berry has had her friend turned inside out. The Latina never thought she's see this unconditional caring side of her friend again after Russell Fabray and high school pettiness found them both.

"Do you really think that this song is gonna help Berry?"

Quinn isn't surprised that her friend has her reasons all figured out. She simply shrugged, unable to shake of the feeling of hope that has ingrained itself into her being. She blames her girlfriend, Leroy, her mother and the happiness they brought her.

"I don't know… music has always been the language that she understands."

Santana rolls her neck.

"OK then."

"You sure?"

A surprised Quinn asks. She hadn't expected this to be so easy. But then again, Santana now holds about her a sense of coherence. Her repressed emotions no longer in conflict with the world and she seems comfortable in her own skin. The Latina holds Quinn's gaze.

"I love Britts and I can admit that my first time was a bust cos it wasn't with her."

The pianist nods. They share a thoughtful moment, before heading back to the glee club. Before they reach the doorway, Santana grabs her friend's wrist, asking on last thing. This would be the first time she doesn't down play her concern because she needs to make sure that the blonde is _really prepared. _She sees it has her responsibility to make sure the pianist wasn't playing the sacrificial lamb, becoming a slave to her love for the diva.

"Q are you sure that you can handle people knowing about you? You _do_ know that _this_ performance is gonna be pretty out there, it's gonna make you vulnerable."

Santana pauses. She breathes lets her words sink in before speaking her final warning.

"You could never handle it when people actually _saw_ you…the real you."

The scene is so quiet and Quinn stops to think. She'll admit that in her rush to make things better she hadn't considered herself as a variable. It takes barely a minute but she weighs the reactions of others to the diva's brilliant smile. It wasn't even a fair fight. The pianist matches the intensity in Santana's stare. Her voice is soft, measured and sure.

"…I love Rachel…and I can admit that my first time wasn't what it should have been, because it wasn't with her."

The Latina lets go of her grip and nods. Their commitment their better halves are the same. This song would be fine.

/

"Settle down children. I have received many complaints about the revision of sex-ed courses in classrooms. This is non-negotiable. The district education board requires it in response to the recent outbreak of Herpes. Those suffering from symptoms are advised to see the school nurse immediately. Now please put your hands together for the New Directions."

Principle Figgins manages before walking off the stage sending a conspiring nod to the music teacher. Mr Schue was reminded of their deal. The music teacher rubs the strain from his face as directed the group the stage. Quinn seats herself in front of the piano, starting the beginning. The notes are so light in the background, giving an almost haunting feeling to the music. Puck walks to the center of the stage, touching her shoulder in support, before starting. His voice is rough with emotion and focus. Gone is the usual cockiness and supposed badass-ery.

I love you, I love you, Jamie liked to whisper

Such hollow words said, with no thoughts, about the other,

And he lies, to whomever he can

Don't let him grow up, as a transient lover

Life with no meaning and a body over plundered

And he asks for forgiveness, not knowing whom he did wrong…

The footballer's voice actually breaks a little. The gym falls silent, falling into the poignancy of the music. Even those that don't like glee club can fathom that they are being shown something that was usually buried, hidden. There's power in that. Everyone becomes rapt in the story, assuming their parts and identifying with the characters. Most of the student population had been there. Some girls that Puck only _almost_ recalls from his one-night stands drop the defensive icy reins that they have on their hearts. The mohawked boy lets the forgiveness wash over him and smiles bashfully when Lauren takes his hand. He mouths thanks to the pianist, who grins softly before returning to seriousness in respect to the next soloist.

Brittany tugs Santana on stage. The dancer gives her a hug before moving behind her. The Latina doesn't let her get very far; making sure that she was always within reach. Her voice is stronger the closer she is to her girlfriend.

I've done it, I've done it, Mary's news would scatter

Fake excitement cast, about a man, who did not bother,

And she tells, everyone that she knows.

Don't let her grow up, wearing permanent covers

Anger so scathing and secrets so undiscovered

And she hid her love, so afraid to let people in…

The last sentence is cast into the ether. Strangely enough, certain cheerleaders actually start to stand, swaying side by side. Sue was a workaholic and slightly psychotic but through so many camps and competitions she had raised a family. The bond seemed to remain even after the girls disbanded. They could recognize the courage it took to get the Latina this far. Others that Santana had only started protecting this year during Kelsey's reign seem to stare at her with awe and admiration.

Mercedes, Sam and Finn sing the chorus.

In time, they'll be standing tall

In time, they'll start to realize,

That, if you jump now, you may lose it all

There's a short interlude and Quinn fingers trip over a couple of notes because her hands are trembling so much. Rachel's head whips around concernedly and she making her way over from the other side of the stage. Meanwhile, the softball captain tries to focus on the task at hand. She forces herself to continue. It works for a second and then she makes another mistake. In frustration she brings her hand to her lap, expecting gasps and deafening silence. Surprisingly neither come. The music continues to be played on the instrument by …_Santana. _The Latina is positioned next to her friend on the bench and she bumps their shoulders playfully. Brittany sidles up on her other side, smiling encouragingly.

Quinn starts to relax. She moves away to center stage turns, meeting _her singer_ in the middle. She takes the microphone in one hand and holds Rachel's hand in the other. They look like one of the few united fronts in a world that didn't believe in soul mates. The blonde's voice was trembling with old memories.

I'm lonely, I'm lonely, Charlie feels so bitter

A drink in her hand, with a boy, who does not matter

And she cries, so quiet, no one will hear

Rachel presses a kiss the back of the pianist's hand. She'll never stop wishing that they realized things sooner. There was so much wasted time when they could have rescued each other from crushes that were unrequited and the boyfriends that didn't fit. Quinn whispers words of affection into the diva's ears before continuing.

Don't let her grow up; an accidental mother

Other people in the audience begin to stand. Maybe they had a similar experience or knew someone that did. However, most stood up because they respected the person singing and could remember catching glimpses of the hardships she had gone through during the pregnancy. The glee club stands in line behind her, a solid back up system.

Smiles so unconvincing and a heart always passed over

And she felt so cold, never able to feel peace…

The brunette marvels over the often-overlooked beauty in her girlfriend's voice, a combination of light high notes and emotional delivery. Her heart broke a lot at the sad story. For the first time since the whole ordeal began, Rachel is hit by a wave of understanding. Puck, Santana and Quinn's stories materialize in her mind and she sees the message behind it all…_It's not a crime to wait…_ The pianist kisses her in the cheek, squeezing their hands. She was all right because now they had each other.

The brunette agrees with the sentiment, beginning her part.

You're ready, You're ready, Jenny heard the chatter

Hiding in a room, to get away, from all the blather

The girls are brought back to the bathroom and Rachel can hear the softball player's comforting voice in her mind. "_When we're both ready." _

And she asks, so many what was the rush?

Don't let her grow up, with thoughts that will smother

Decisions to make and a love so under pressure

And then a voice tell her, that it will all be ok…

A small smile slides on the singer's face and she buries herself in the awaiting blonde's arms. Rachel remembers falling asleep to the pianist's reassurance and spoken feelings. The worry plaguing her for days starts to lessen its vice like grip on her heart. She gets to see the future, what she _really _envisioned for her first time. Candles. Music. _Quinn. _The blonde was the only constant.

Kurt, Artie, Brittany and Lauren sing the chorus.

In time, they'll be standing tall

In time, they'll start to realize,

That, if you jump now, you may lose it all

Slowly, Tina begins the next line.

I'm happy. I'm happy, Alice tells her mother

She's followed by Mike, who stares at her adoringly, completely entranced.

I'm happy. I'm happy, Peter tells his father

And together they sing the rest of the verse; sharing secret glances and barely there smiles. It had been a surprise but they were the only members of the groups who had lost their virginity with no regrets. The couple had discussed it over the summer and with equal logical weighting to the pros and cons, they gave into their feelings.

Lights dance in their eyes, and they'll never love another

And they live, breathe deep, all the same air

Don't let them grow up; as seeds will start to flower

Moments so rare and feelings that overpower

And they close their eyes; see a future together…

Santana plays the next part of the music slowly. Quinn steps into Rachel. Hazel meets brown. And even though she should know the words because she had written them, the blonde can swear that it doesn't come from her mind but her heart.

In time, you'll hear my call

Rachel cheeks redden. She can feel the spotlight on her, on _their_ relationship. However, the pianist doesn't let her get lost in her thoughts. A pale hand leads the singer's chin to back to the middle. Quinn sings strongly.

In time, we'll have it all

They say that it is at one's lowest point where they discover what they're made of. The singer would like to amend that statement and she leans their forehead together. The diva would prefer to think… that i_t is at one's lowest point when they discover what their __**significant other**__ is made of._

_How will they behave? _

_How far will they go? _

_Is the love between them enough? _

Rachel discovers that she knows the answers before the questions even had the time to manifest themselves. The blonde behaves like a protector, a friend and a lover. She would go to place where her own reputation loses its value and significance. The love is always more than enough, always just a little more than the diva can handle. The singer realizes that love isn't sex and that taking the long way is perfectly acceptable. It places no doubts, nor does it decrease the validity of her feelings. Rachel can take her time because Quinn is the one at the end of the tunnel. The softball captain can have a cup of coffee, read an entire library or even go through a lifetime of close embraces just _until the singer is ready._

With that, the taller girl reveals the last line of the song.

_I will wait for you, till all the stars fall..._

/

Tada! Anyways my first time going close to that mature rated stuff. Thoughts? =)


	19. Chapter 19 Futures

**Chapter 19 – Futures**

So I have to agree with one reviewer who has told me that I seem to start off every chapter with a apology for the delay. Well…why break tradition right? =) Sorry guys, I got myself a Summer job and it's keeping me quite busy. Anyways Christmas is up soon, so think of this as your present! And of course shout out time:

_Truepinay13_, just thankyou for the compliments (think I'm going red). It's just great to see that the writing is appreciated. I know I have an interesting experience with the chapters.

_Phoebex13_, oh no! Health first buddy, always go for health first. Nevertheless hopefully you're feeling all better now. By the way, love your analogies about getting colds.

_Platypeople_, thankyou for the constructive criticism, I've tried to ease up on the epithets and hopefully it proves to be a better read for you now.

_LeeMac,_ I'm glad you like my writing style. My teachers always thought it was kind of odd in school or maybe they just thought I was odd. XD Anyway yeah, I believe that if it is right it is right, not to be rushed.

_DarkInu418_, yep in my opinion Quinn's character is one of the most complex. And the song? Well it is very loosely base on the song Red Rover by Rosie Thomas. If you change the words to what I had and keep her music and notes then it is what I'm going for.

/

It is always funny how the most ominous things in life are often displayed on colorful ribbons and streamers. The seniors of the McKinley glee club stand at the entrance of the hall as the words, 'Career Day' resound in their mind, flinching internally. They really were growing up. The concept finally hits them as they take the hand of their significant other and make resolute, resigned eyes contact with their friends. Santana scrutinizes her cuticles for a second before rolling her eyes at the stalemate. She drags Brittany into the fray. At first, you can see their heads bob around, then nothing... Quinn smiles, she knew that the girls would come back with equal shares of Law and Dancing applications, almost _certainly_ to the same schools.

From then on it's quiet and it's slow, but pair by pair they start to scatter, trying to find the best path to their future. Blaine, who has taken a day off from Dalton, leads Kurt the way to the nearest arts academy. Sam and Mercedes shrug their shoulders, going in with an open mind and lots of time. Artie rolls his way to a school on the coast, offering the best film production opportunity, whilst Puck and Lauren disappear to…well, nobody really knows.

Rachel squeezes Quinn's hand before stretching to land a kiss on her cheek. The blonde takes a deep breath, lifting their hands up to eye levels. Staring at the way tan and pale clash so well, she remembers everything, their plans, _and their future. _The anxiety is driven back and that familiar warm feeling returns. She's confident because the energetic presence by her side, it feels better than anything else. There's no other description than "liquid courage," except for the fact that it wasn't temporary and it didn't come with adverse side effects. It occurs to Quinn that likening Rachel's effect on her to alcohol probably isn't the smartest thing in the world. However from the singer's shining brown eyes, she'll say loudly that she isn't ashamed of this addiction instead she actually craves this strange dependency.

"Quinn, are you ready? I have drawn up a map of all the booths to all the medical schools. There's a lot to get through, with NYU being on the top of the list. I fi-"

In a second, the singer has a perfectly folded sheet out into the light. An adorable concentration is worn as she contemplates which way to go to first. The softball captain can identify at least twenty colours at first glance, each in a different direction. It reminds her of the story of the technicolour dream coat and a part of her melts at the amount of dedication trapped in the page. Years to come Quinn will have the square framed on her desktop, her very own patchwork perfection and a constant reminder of the love that got her there.

"Rachel? Thankyou…"

The powerful sincerity in the interruption catches the singer off guard and she nearly drops all of her hard work. It is a wonderful thing that the girls are so balance, because Quinn manages to grab the map just in time. The motion is so fluid and graceful, that a passerby might think that it was choreographed. The blonde cups Rachel's cheek, rubbing her thumb lightly over those defined cheekbones. Her hazel eyes, always so expressive, acts like an entity of its own, providing a cocoon of happiness to the diva. The next words spoken in an entranced state that seems to occur whenever the girls are left alone together.

"…We'll start with NYU then."

/

In the mass of students milling about, everyone loses track of time. Agreements made to meet at the drinking fountain are forgotten as they each discover new opportunities. Quinn has a handful of medical school information, prioritized to be closest to New York. The passion in her eyes is fierce, growing exponentially as she meets various college representatives. Rachel discovers that she has never been happier. She watches _her_ blonde engage in something so completely. From the interest embedded in pale expressions and the laughs garnered from shared jokes of science, there's nothing more beautiful. So with quiet movements and determined secrecy, for every medical booth visited, Rachel takes an inventory of the schools' drama program, pocketing applications on her way. She will never quite understand why she does it _because _Julliard is Julliard, it's been her goal since infancy; nothing _should compare_. Nonetheless a compelling force slips into her mind and she can't help but consider _what if…_

Like all great mazes, the hero has to navigate their way past the Minotaur to get to the prize. However, sometimes the monster encountered, is just a little too ferocious and scary to face alone. The girls weave in between students, until a voice filled with false grandeur, causes Quinn to stiffen and freeze. Rachel collides into her with surprise. There's a mixture between anger and childlike fear as the taller girl lets the words wash over her. Hazel eyes shut tight in attempt to avoid the inevitable ugliness that stood just a few paces in front.

"Ruthlessness, determination and strength are all tenants of being a good businessman. To get to where I am, the head of a reasonably sized publishing firm, you should start with a good foundation. And there's no place smarter than Harvard Business School."

Rachel tries to peep over the softball captain's shoulder to see the problem. Concern and curiosity control her actions so much so that she doesn't register the blonde's response. Quinn has angled her body discreetly, placing herself as a shield between the singer and the man in front. There is a defensive quality to her stance as she tightens her hold on the tan hand behind her back. Rachel had never met Russell Fabray, only hearing about snippets of scenes that she thinks should belong in a child services file. So as her eyes take in the solid figure, she uses the small nuances and the changes in her girlfriend to gauge the situation. The man has flaxen styled blond hair, gold cufflinks and brown leather shoes. He seems to be a perfect example of everything in excess. However it is the eyes that cause the spark of realization, a familiar set of hazel, staring coldly ahead. In all her years, Rachel has always wondered who taught Quinn to be cruel. But from the way that the ex-cheerleader trembles slightly against her body, Rachel can't bring herself to feel any sense of victory at discovering the answer.

The only difference between the two was the younger blonde had always been only _pretending._ Inner conflict laced her actions and every nasty remark. Rachel suspects something different for Russell. It takes a while but since Quinn has been rendered immobile, the father, taking a break from his pompous spiel _finally_ sees them. For a second, he's caught off guard. If one paid attention to the man, they _might_ find a flicker of warm recognition and maybe hidden desire to hug his youngest daughter. The moment is brief before stonewalls shut down and all that remains is distaste and anger. The singer wishes that Russell never showed that bit of vulnerability at all, because through Quinn's grip she can feel the hope build only to shatter.

"What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be on one of your _business trips_?"

The softball captain's voice is bitter and measured. Rachel flinches at the harsh tone. It had been such a long time since she had heard it... directed at anyone at all. She is just a little worried that her progress with the blonde could be wiped away through a single interaction. So she stands straighter and closer, deciding that maybe this time she could be the pillar of support needed in the relationship. For what it's worth the tightening on her small tan hands tells her that at the very _least _the effort is acknowledged. Russell's jaw clenches and the grip he has on his binder nearly snaps. The storm clouding his eyes would scare anyone.

"John at admission called me for a favor. Show some respect Quinnie, I might not consider you my daughter anymore but I am still your elder and your superior."

Quinn is full of emotion, even when she tries to be harsh and mean. Her _real _thoughts always manage to slip through the cracks in her countenance and the secretive subsequent attempts at redemption. All of which, Rachel has _always _had an ability to read. Despite her grievances and lack of experience in the realm of social niceties, the blonde was a song that Rachel could sight read without even trying. And it is perhaps because of that, which causes the singer's heart to lurch at the hollow choked laugh that escapes her girlfriend.

"_Don't _call me that. You're not anything to me. Mom was the _only one _that cared about you after you kicked me out and _you cheated_ on her. You're not anything to _anyone,_ anymore."

Pale cheeks redden with the force behind the words and for a moment Quinn considers adding some expletives. However from the worried glances of passerby's, she holds herself in check. She has no desire for her life to be on display, no matter how much she wanted to expose her father for who he really was,

the cold man he _could be. _

Russell's features harden and he turns to the tiny mousy little girl by his daughter's side.

"Excuse me, can you leave me _Quinn _to speak alone for a moment? This is a private matter."

Ever the epitome of control, his voice is even, creating a false sense of sincerity. For a moment, the level of

practice it takes to possess that kind of acting ability scares Rachel. It puts her own theatrical productions to shame. She's disturbed, because if the man could fake such warmth and emotion… what was he _really _hiding? Who had Quinn _actually_ grown up with? The diva is sure that she doesn't want to know the answer.

"No, say what you have to say but Rachel stays with me. I'd rather be surrounded by someone that actually cares about me"

Quinn bristles. The way she subtlety positions herself between her father and Rachel does not go unnoticed. The singer has a frown on her face; she thinks that she should be the one doing the protecting in this scenario. However what she doesn't understand is that in many of the more important ways she already _is. _Rachel is the barrier that prevents all of Russell's harshness to reach the blonde's heart. She's the rock that Quinn is desperately holding on to. The man narrows his eyes at the complete lack of space between the two girls and he remembers seeing Martin Lopez's daughter kissing that dim-witted dancer outside. The rumors that he had completely disregarded return to the front of his mind and he staggers back.

Quinn is not ashamed; she _refuses_ to be. She knows that in 50 years if she loses _everything _she will be able to hold her head up high and claim that Rachel is the one thing she did right. So she moved their intimately joined hands from behind her back and into the light. Her face is determined, bright and _intense, _just daring her father to say something_._

"You mean… Mary was right? You're… you're drowning in sin! This –"

Russell gestures erratically, disgust and a sense of irrational fear flooding his features.

"– is an abomination! I knew that your mother was soft but has she completely lost her wits? You need to be controlled!"

People can bend before they break. Quinn has scars from being broken one too many times. However if one were to continue this metaphor, Rachel is industrial strength glue, holding everything together. And perhaps in the end, _also _in the long run making the blonde stronger and wiser. After all, it's the imperfect nuances that provide character. The softball player whispers reassurances into the singer ear before letting go of their connection to step forward. She is an inch from her father, using the same tone that she had been taught nearly all her life.

"Don't you dare bring mom into this. She's _loves me enough to be _here and you don't. That's all there is to it."

The challenge floats in the air adding an explosive current to the venom that already existed. They're not really eye-to-eye, because Russell is taller. However this is advantage seems miniscule and rather useless when Quinn has ice in her eyes and a sneer on her face. Slowly but surely, her shoulders and expression returns to neutral. She takes a step back, reaching for that little brunette's hand again. The father recognizes that his arguments would not sway his daughter, as she seems to care less and less about his comments by the second. The notion incites something vicious in him. He would not be ignored. The man couldn't handle being ineffectual to anybody let alone his supposed flesh and blood. Quinn _would _respond…damn it. He _was_ important. It is that sliver of desperation directs him to the papers in his daughter hand.

Rachel cringes. She recognized the warning signs of the next assault. She just wasn't as worried when it had been Quinn who was the attacker. Somehow even in their interactions in the past she knew that the old head Cheerio had carefully drawn lines for personal issues. Russell? He had none, especially _not _in his rage.

"What's that? Medical School? Really Quinnie?"

The singer tries to drag her girlfriend away. She didn't want this for the blonde. It was going to hurt and Quinn felt _everything. _The mocking tone of the man only heightens her need to put some distance between father and daughter. However, the pianist is a strong athlete and has at least half a head over Rachel. She wasn't going to be moved, thinking that she would _finally _see her family drama to its end.

"Aren't you getting a bit tired of that pipe dream? None of those schools are going to want you."

Rachel has never felt so helpless but there's no chance that she would let Quinn do this alone. In the aftermath, she would pick up the shattered pieces of that complicated psyche and nurse it back to someone that could function honestly again. She could feel the pianist shake. Anger had long since faded into pain. Russell steps forward, glaring at his daughter, enunciating his syllables like _proper educated man._

"Quinn, you're not a good enough Christian… not a good enough daughter… and not a good enough _student._"

With clenched fists, the pianist has silent tears streaming down her face. The father shakes his head disappointedly. His voice is only slightly softer because there _is _a part of him that still can't stand to see his little girl cry.

"You threw all your chances of a bright future a way the second you broke apart our family…I hope you're happy Quinnie, because Lima is all you have."

Broken, the softball captain looks down to the floor trying to catch her breath. Her shoulder hunched inwards and the energy around her is sad and dull. She's not strong anymore. Eventually she'll look up and in an innocent child's tone, ask one stuttered request.

"Why won't you just go away?"

Russell holds his stance, refusing to give an inch. His daughter crumples a little bit more when she breaks away from Rachel, running out of the gym.

/

_SLAP!_

The sound resounds through the whole gymnasium as Rachel's hand makes contact with Russell's cheek. She doesn't even care that she had to tip toe to do it. They've drawn the attention of the school. Glee members who had been informed of the altercation; shove their way to the scene, ready to fight for their own. Puck, Finn and Sam step forward menacingly with crossed arms. Brittany has that familiar uncomfortable frown around violence and conflict. Santana has curiosity written over her,_ until she recognizes_ the man in front of the singer. Then, she swears all the derogatory terms that she knows in Spanish and it _still _seems too kind.

All any of them can think is that they've never really seen Rachel Berry angry before, to the point that the crackling fury could be _debilitating_ because she's rarely ever felt real hate flowing through her being.

Kelsey steps in front of the man her mother was oh so close with. Mary and Russell were united in their close-minded beliefs. Finn wears a worried look and automatically moves with her. He wonders if it makes him a terrible person that in this moment he was more afraid for the redhead than he was for Quinn. He wants to drag the sophomore back to the safety of the crowd but also knew that he would most likely get a punch to his arm for his efforts. As Kelsey looks into the man's eyes, she has the expression of someone a few years older. No one will dispute that it was a magnificent sight. Kelsey Edwards and Russell Fabray were tall aristocratic figures from an archaic way of thinking, engaging in a non-verbal duel. This was the first time where class division in Lima Ohio seemed strangely obvious; those that came from old money and a supposedly pure lineage.

"Leave, Russell. You are no longer Quinn's legal guardian so you have no right to be here. Mr Schue is already talking to Principle Figgins to relieve you of your booth responsibilities."

"I have _every right. _That – that _harlot _tricked my daughter into _that life_!"

Rachel snaps, surging forward. Rolling her eyes at the ignorance, the redhead moves out of the way, giving the singer a curt nod before starting for Quinn's whereabouts. In the meantime, the brunette whirls around and has her index finger poking savagely into lapel of the Russell's expensive dinner jacket. She's seething. Her word filter out with a hiss and punctuated push forward.

"_You_ are not fit to be parent. I'm glad that Quinn wants nothing to do with you because you are positively wicked and depraved."

She needs to take a breath, vision clouded by the force of her rage. When she does look up her brown eyes focused and precise.

"Let me tell you something Mr Fabray and I'll tell you this only once. Your daughter? That girl that you just tried to whittle into nothing? She's the captain of the McKinley girls softball team, set to win the championship for the _first time_ in a decade."

Santana and Brittany nod. The statement has time to sink in before Rachel begins again.

"Quinn is a valued member of the New Directions glee club that's heading to _Nationals_."

Artie does a small high five with the guys. Mike smiles softly, thinking that Quinn had always been one of the more impressive cheerleaders that he had known. A smart head on good sensible set of shoulders was what his father would probably say.

"– _and_ she's on honor roll…."

Rachel tries to compose her unusual temper. She has complete conviction in the things she says and the size, depth and feeling behind her voice blows through everyone's mind. Emphasizing the next words she is almost tempted to give the man a shake, to wake him out of his stupidity induced apathy.

"She's perfect! And it has _nothing _to do with you…"

Russell says nothing. There's a silence. Rachel could have left things there, after all the point had been made and the man seems to have submitted. And, she _would have _walked away, if she didn't care so much about Quinn. However the reality is that the blonde is _so_ central to her happiness and her ideal self that she _stays…_

She says something that might be just a little bit mean and ends up wondering if a high school career of always taking the high road would excuse her current indiscretion. She thinks that it should as she spits out the biting remark.

"In a few years, Quinn is going to have _everything_, the job, the family and the friends. Today will be nothing but a distant memory. Whilst you? _If_ you're lucky, you might be a photograph along the halls of your company, someone that nobody really cared to know…"

Rachel huffs, picking up the scattered medicine applications that the blonde had abandoned in her haste. She desperately hopes that Kelsey has found her girlfriend, because she was sure that Quinn needed someone from _her own_ world right now.

/

Years later, with two bottles of whiskey and a lavish yet empty hotel room, Russell Fabray might begin to regret all his past actions, _finally recognizing what _an 18 year old _Rachel Berry meant. _He'll take out the wrinkled aged Polaroid of the Indians game where a 5-year-old Quinn fell asleep on his lap. The man will sob into his hands and trace the tan line from his wedding ring _only _to reminisce about what it felt like to have a family, when the three most important women in his life would greet him with a smile. He'll think about _all _those precious things as he slips into disheveled bed sheets, tainted by the ruby lipstick of a paid woman.

_However when he realizes all these things… it is just… too little too late…_

/

A few days pass since the incident. Nobody really speaks of it. People give the blonde a wide birth, terrified and concerned at the same time. Now and then, a person might have the courage to crack Quinn Fabray an empathetic encouraging smile or vacate their area in the cafeteria line. It's not sympathy but respect because the softball captain continues to stride through the halls of McKinley with her head held high, _still _compassionate enough to help the struggling awkward freshman.

Outwardly, things are stable but few know the truth. Unknowingly, Brittany is trying harder than normal to be happy. Santana concerned eyes keep flickering to her captain in glee, during softball and on their rare moments alone. Kelsey is silent, absent mostly. She appears not to care because it's what Quinn needs. Contrary to popular notions it _is _possible to overload a person with positive attention, _especially_ with a girl who's always had to lower her expectations. It is very much like giving a straight-laced person a large dose of heroin. Their bodies haven't learnt how to handle it yet. And to some, kindness _was a natural drug._

Rachel understands this and as much as she hates herself for it, she does not run to Quinn. She does not smother her with kisses, reassurance and love. Instead the brunette becomes a quiet companion, always accessible but never loud or pressing. The blonde has these moments where she lets herself drop her guard and registers the amazing concession that the brunette is making for her. In those seconds, she interlaces their fingers and squeezes. She holds their joined hands in front of her lap and beside her thigh but _never behind her back._ Quinn was not ashamed of Rachel.

/

Miss Pillsbury learns these things about Quinn Fabray. Actually she learns a lot about Will's band of kids in her career counseling interviews. Her respect for most of them blossoms and her worries for others prod insistently at her thoughts. One by one the seniors come to her quaint obsessively tidy office, sitting opposite her for half hour sessions. Each goes something like this.

/

Puck is restless the moment he enters. The room was too organized, too clean and too _responsible. _His fingers keep running through his Mohawk, eyes frantically assessing the room for an exit. He's only seconds away from bolting when the ginger counselor speaks.

"Puck, I've gone through your records. You've had a bit of a rocky start but it seems grades are now at least passing. You do well in mathematics, but I'd like to ask you, what do you see yourself doing in 5 -10 years? Would you consider college?"

The well-built footballer looks around not saying much. He had ideas, thoughts and a _real vision. _But would it be what people expected of him? His plan was solid; it involved a strategic mind and a lot of hard work before it saw profit. Noah could only imagine the doubt, sneers and surprise from the other students. The school delinquent actually thought past his next bed partner? That would be unheard off! Still, Puck feels uncomfortable under the kind patient gaze of the woman before him. He thinks of how he would like to buy a nice ring for Lauren one day and have little wrestlers running around. So with reluctance, he tells her his secret aspirations.

"I don't know. I have my pool cleaning business. It does quite well, but one day I would like to expand, you know? Break into the markets of other towns. Those Californians have huge pools in their backyards right?"

Miss Pillsbury smiles gently, nodding her head. Without a word she reaches for the applications business and management training courses at the local college. Puck takes them gruffly, trying to hide his gratitude for her confidence and support.

/

Artie Abrams wheels himself in confidently, rhythmically nodding his head to the latest rap song that's playing in his head. _So airplane, airplane, sorry I'm late, I'm on my way so don't close that gate…_It was just so catchy! Only when he's finishing setting the brakes on his chair, does he focus on the task at hand. He knows exactly what the questions would be. It was the same for everyone wasn't it? They would discuss how the future would turn out. As he glances around he catches the afternoon lighting and how it seems to accentuate Miss Pillsbury's compulsive arrangement of his school file. The boy, who has finally accepted his heartbreak over a certain dancer, is carefree as he tries to consider the best angle for a camera to capture the scene. Would he zoom in on the character's expression or take a volley shot to encompass everything?

"I want to be a director. I love singing and performing but with my circumstances it'd could be difficult. I rather like being behind the cameras. Stories change depending on how it is told."

He saves the redhead from asking the question.

/

Kurt lowers himself gracefully on the chair. He straightens out his suit jacket and thinks about next season's fashion. In his bag is a binder containing both applications to performing arts and design schools in New York. With Blaine's logic and Rachel's comprehensive research, it is organized from most viable to the least. The binder makes its way to Miss Pillsbury. They comfortably chat about the deadlines for each of the places. Through the discussion, the well-dressed teen will make a passing comment about how certain hairstyles and clothing might suit the redhead better. Miss Pillsbury will stutter in response, cheeks reddening. All of a sudden she finds new _clutter_ to correct with vigor.

At the end of the day Miss Pillsbury will wonder how taking Kurt up on his suggestions might affect her relationship with Will. Would they finally be able to move past their shyness and act on the emotions that had been there for so long?

/

In many ways, Miss Pillsbury really shouldn't have been surprised when Santana Lopez and Brittany S. Pierce waltzed in together, joined at the pinky. Despite the fact that it had been stipulated that these were closed individual sessions, neither had the intention of leaving the other. The redhead's eyes widen and she begins to fiddle with certain things on her desk. The look on the Latina's face is challenging, causing the counselor's nervousness to skyrocket. She really needed to learn how to deal with Sue's kids better.

"Uh, Santana, Brittany? These are separate sessions. Could one of you go o – "

The stuttered speech is interrupted. Santana has leaned forward palms on the table.

"Ok, before you start, I'm feeling nice today so I'll stop your little brain fart right there. Britts and I have already been to all the booths and gots all the information we need. Our parents approve of all our choices, so here."

Sets of signed sheets are presented. As Miss Pillsbury reads through them, she has an amused smile on her face. The applications were in pairs to each university. She ignores the fact that the language exhibited in Brittany's personal statements was well above her level, using vocabulary remarkably similar to the Latina's. It is for the same reason that she overlooks the random facts about cat diseases on the corner of the pages. At the very least Emma can say that Brittany did indeed contribute to her own application in some way, shape or form. Looking at the couple in front of her, she can honest say that she wishes them the best. The way Santana seems softer next to the dancer is really an amazing thing.

Still, Miss Pillsbury _has _to prepare them for the possibility that life might not be that easy… it is _her job_. With that she struggles to get the unwelcome question out.

"Girls, you've done a wonderful job with these applications, but I just wonder what your plans are will if you don't get into the same college?"

Santana's face darkens. She'd like to snap at the auburn haired staff member and deliver her own brand of punishment for bringing the notion up. However a multitude of things stop her, starting with the fact that she respected the lady's empathic nature to the fact that Brittany seems frozen. The dancer looks as if someone had tried to convince her that the sky wasn't blue or that Lord Tubbington is indeed _just a cat. _Miss Pillsbury for her part is stricken, regretting her decision to bring the topic up.

Time makes you wiser. Santana Lopez used to be callous and pessimistic. After her high school trials of self-discovery and coming out, she's developed this foreign need to help make things better. She'd like to call it the Brittany effect. For a moment she just lets her thoughts drift before grazing the dancer's cheek softly. Clear blue eyes turn towards her and the two girls share a small smile. Santana turns to Miss Pillbury. Her face seems devoid of the usual hardness and distaste.

"Look, things go wrong every day. Crap happens and we just gots to deal. Britts and I have always been together. Some things _don't _change. You can sit there and lectures us about the coulds and maybes, or you can help us get there…"

The last statement is softened and it becomes a request. Emma can't help but think that Santana Lopez has come a long way, since freshman year. Four years ago, the Latina had stormed out of the counselor's office threatening murder, should she rearrange the objects one more time. Emma makes a note to herself to make some calls to the admissions office of some of these colleges. Perhaps she could get the proverbial ball rolling...

/

Lauren Zizes is a decidedly difficult case. The wrestler plops herself down in the corner, breaking out her laptop because someone in the AV club had told her that this spot had the _best Internet connection. _Minutes pass, and Miss Pillsbury clears her throat uncomfortably trying to get the girl's attention.

"Um, excuse me Lauren. I don't mind if you sit there but I would like to discuss your college applications."

Emma succeeds for a second because Lauren has actually lifted her head up and was staring in her direction. The flickering of eyes told of consideration of the request. However sooner rather than later the girl has pushed her glasses back up to the bridge of the nose and shuts down her computer. She's heading for the door, but before she leaves, she turns around.

"Send me an email about it. I don't do…face to face."

The statement is crisp and strangely still polite. It drives the ginger haired counselor up the wall.

/

Finn shuffles in. With his large frame, Miss Pillbury can't help but think that he always looks just a little out of place. Awkwardly he'll say.

"Uh, hi Miss Pillsbury…so I don't know how to do this."

He makes her smile after dealing with some of the others. The footballer's lack of knowledge lets Emma exercise her full arsenal of explanations and actually do her job; guiding.

"That's not a problem Finn. Let get started. From your grades and extra-curriculars, I'm inclined to say that the best college entry for you would be via the sports portal. Once you're in you can then decide whether you want to pursue it for a career. Though I should warn you the chances of becoming a professional footballer are low. It would be risky."

Finn smiles softly, trying to alleviate the obvious discomfort of the redhead. He understood, he really did. Whilst he was good enough for high school leagues, he didn't have the skill for more than that. It still hurt to hear though. But before the sadness could build up, his shoulders reflexively flinch. Like a ghost, he almost expects to feel Kelsey's punch and voice telling him to toughen up; that football wasn't the be all and end all. For a moment, he's transported back to a few days ago; they had been in Burt's garage, tinkering with the latest little project that a customer had brought in. Finn remembers feeling worthy and useful, as the young ex-cheerleader dutifully rubbed the grease of his cheek after an incident with the engine.

"I get it. Um, I was thinking about helping Burt run his garage after high school. I mean I don't want him to have to do all that alone with his heart problem and everything."

Emma nods. She thinks that for everyone's derision of his intelligence, Finn had a kind heart.

/

Mercedes would like sing, to be one of the greats, filing stadiums with _just her voice_. She is adamant about her very high chances of getting in anywhere, unable to take any talk of otherwise. Still Miss Pillsbury slips in a couple of other options in her hands, in the hopes that she'd consider having a contingency. On the other hand, Sam is content to do anything that would allow him to provide for his future family. Remembering how well he did with his younger siblings, Emma can recognize some parallels between him and Will, family orientated, handsome and reliable. She manages to convince the boy to consider teaching, having no doubt he's be favored by his students.

/

Tina didn't stutter. She never did, but nonetheless communication was difficult. She was a quiet girl for the most part, content smiles and optimistic eyes. They lack Rachel's determination or Santana's sharpness; Miss Pillsbury feels most relaxed speaking to her. They explore every option at length, settling on a possibility of performing and a backup career in the cinema cosmetics. And though Emma shrivels at the idea of putting any sort of foreign substance on her own face she wonders how the Asian made her eye _pop _so much.

Mike follows with various dance applications for himself and an extra pile devised by his parents: medicine and law. Miss Pillsbury understands his seeming conflict and reassures him that there isn't any shame in pursuing his own path. Emma's own parents wanted her to join them in their country club crusades of redhead preservation.

/

With calculated poise, Rachel seats herself in the chair. She glances around thinking that in her high school years she's been in this room too many times. And whilst she does appreciate the order and precision in the room, it is a bit off putting. Miss Pillsbury clasps her hands in front. The singer seems agitated under that strangely determined veneer, no doubt the product of the incident a few days ago. The gossip had travelled around like wildfire. It was a well-kept secret but the teacher's rumor mill far outpaced that of the students. Emma wants to ask about it, to probe into the reasons behind Rachel's surrender to anger however it's not the time or place.

"Rachel, have you given any thought to which college you would like to go to?"

To be honest, Emma expects a simple straightforward answer of Julliard and early entry. Instead a binder lands on her desk. It has the fresh smell of glue and dampness from ink that was still drying. For the first time the counselor notices the bags under the short girl's eyes. Upon reading the contents, the haphazard scrawl belies the author's rush to get it finished. Miss Pillsbury looks up in surprise.

"But… but these are to other colleges, UCLA, Berkeley, Yale?"

Rachel stares ahead, her focus powerful as she murmurs a small fact.

"They have good medical schools…"

The rest is barely discernible. Only a few words are caught.

"Julliard already has my application but I – I can sing anywhere – Quinn…in case she doesn't get New York…"

The singer has the utmost confidence in her girlfriend. Quinn Fabray was smart, athletic and well rounded. Colleges would be lucky to have her. However recent events have forced the Rachel on a different line of thought. It shocks her…no, _actually it scares her to the core, _but New York's appeal diminishes without the blonde. She finds herself considering the repercussions should the world become cruel and refuse one of them entry. They would be _separated…_

Applying for the same schools removes that possibility…. Rachel Barbra Berry decides that Julliard is an acceptable collateral.

/

Tick. Tick. Tick. The sound of the clock fills the room. Quinn sits quietly on the visitor's armchair meeting Miss Pillsbury's gaze head on. The counselor doesn't know how to respond. After all she was sure that by now everyone knew about the blonde's situation. Unmoving and stoic, the pianist waits patiently. Hazel eyes carry a strange sort of vacancy, in that it was devoid of any real expectation, again. There would be no surprise at noises and no elation at good news, just moving and carrying on. Emma finds that alarming.

"Quinn, I heard about what happened. Are you ok?"

The ex-cheerleader raises her eyebrow slightly at the question. Minutely her expression hardens. Emma is floored. It used to be that one could never discover what the blonde was actually thinking. Now all the redhead could see were the cracks and vulnerabilities seeping through. She hates that parents have such an effect on their children, true or not, right or wrong. Her own never ceased to make her crawl onto her knees to beg God to take away her obsessive quirks.

"Ok Well we don't have to talk about that. How about colleges? Rachel tells me that you are considering medical school. I think that would be a good fit for you Quinn, You have strong scores in your science subjects."

Miss Pillsbury's tone is hopeful as she asks with wide doe eyes. Quinn feels uncomfortable. Since that day she hadn't thought about it. _Lie_. She hadn't broken down in her room. _Lie. _She didn't give up. _Lie. _

"I'm not applying for them."

The words slip out. Everything about the blonde, even when she was expressionless, no, _especially when she was expressionless _commanded the attention of others. The redhead is no exception. So she tries to keep her fingers still and listen.

"Why? You have the marks for it."

Quinn re-crosses her legs. Her shaking hands brush a loose blonde strand back behind her ear, allowing herself that small measure of control. She looks down, moisture gathering in her eyes.

"I could tell you how this all turns out, you know."

The words are so soft; Emma almost has to lean over her desk to catch them. She waits patiently. Quinn looks up; the lighting accentuates the wet trail down her face. But she doesn't notice, she doesn't wipe it away because she's so tired of lying. Right now, the blonde is not composed. She barely understands herself. She had been so sure that her father didn't mean anything anymore, that he couldn't _still _hurt her. She was so wrong.

"Rachel will get into Julliard, go to New York and take the world by storm because… she's just _too talented_ to stay…"

The broken grin tells the world that the young blonde isn't fighting it. The thought has become engrained into her worldview. The sky is blue, gravity causes things to fall and Rachel will be more than successful on Broadway, leaving the Lima behind. Most probably also leaving her. And it's not a comment on the strength their relationship. It just feels like quiet creeping inevitabilities, things that she could never control. Her voice gets weaker, the words no longer smooth.

"I – I'll get heartbroken. Rejected by NYU or any of the other schools, I'll stay here, become a successful real estate agent…and if I'm lucky I'll get to keep the memory that I had one perfect year, with the perfect girl…"

Each word Quinn speaks feels like a betrayal to the brunette singer. She can't help but flinch at her own resigned tone, barely recognizing herself anymore. The small part of her that rails against her depressing thoughts is dwarfed by everything else. She wonders if there is any point in finishing this session. The blonde can see birds flying about and students joking outside through the window and a slow sad smile appears. She thinks of Rachel Berry and it's like a painkiller for the desolate emptiness that threatens to invade her mind. Her one perfect thing…

/

"What did Quinn say about colleges?"

Rachel's insistent voice was the first thing that Miss Pillsbury hears after spending hours pouring over the files for every student. She had been busy trying to figure the most successful paths for the senior cohort. Several people stand out on her list, causing her to fret and worry. Quinn Fabray was near the top of that list and she finds that her eyes keep going back it. Clipped on the manila folder was a picture of the girl in her freshman year, hard eyes clenched jaw; completely bored with the world. What a different 3 years makes. Burned in Emma's memory now, was an image of the blonde fiercely pushing the bullies back and fixing the hierarchical problems in the McKinley. Everything about her had been so wonderfully alive. The thought that such a spirit had decided to trap herself in Lima, Ohio was not only illogical but a sad and profound loss to the profession that would have received her.

So Miss Pillsbury understands the brunette's worry.

"Um well, hello Rachel. Why don't you take a seat?"

Try as she may, Emma still stutters around confrontation however she finds that it becomes much more pronounced around certain people. Thankfully Rachel Berry has been in this room enough that the redhead has developed immunity. The polite placating tone fills the room. For a moment the singer considers fighting it. Annoyed energy bounced around in her mind. She just wanted to know what was going on with Quinn. The recent days had been a disturbing form of torture; knowing there was a problem but unable to grasp the specifics. Her internal need to do something is pushing at her control and she desperately refuses to pressure the blonde. Rachel decides that Miss Pillsbury is her next best source for information. As etiquette overrides her restlessness, she seats herself, launching into an explanation.

"She's been so out of it these past few days after her father and…"

Clasping her hands together, Rachel looks up, meeting the counselor's gaze.

"…I _just don'_t want her going off and doing something she would regret."

Her sincerity is palpable. Big brown eyes moisten. The way Rachel speaks…it is like she already knows what Quinn was thinking, what she was _doing_ and all the brunette was asking for was proof for her suspicions. She wouldn't need the information to reaffirm her emotional superiority or establish some weird form of control over the blonde. No, she genuinely needed to know so she could _help_. And, Emma is actually saddened by the fact that the school and her own personal ethics prevent her from disclosing.

"Rachel, I understand your worries, but I can't release information of one student to another."

Fidgeting, Miss Pillsbury tries to attend to the girl in front of her. Her slim fingers are trembling under her usual nervousness. She repeats to herself that now was not the right time to correct that acute angle that her pencil had fallen into. Two pairs of warm eyes connect and Emma sighs softly. She feels a foreign desire to hug the frantic girl in front of, but knowing that she never would. It was strange really. She thinks of how she wants to be around Will, to touch him and most importantly to _communicate_ with him. Her next statement is as much for herself as it if for the singer.

"Why don't you ask her yourself? I find that talking is often the best way to clear the air."

There's a gap. Rachel seems to honestly think about it before scoffing and shaking her head. Millions of thoughts in her head scream out reasons against it but only one is important. She doesn't want to cause Quinn any unnecessary pain. She _refuses to _hurt Quinn more, by forcing the opening of still raw wounds. Instead she changes her expression, making her eyes just that little bit wider and her plead just a little bit needier. She's drawing on all her ability to implore the counselor one last time.

"You can tell me about Quinn, Miss Pillsbury. Sure even you have heard, she and I are a couple now. We _are_ each other's business."

Emma blushes, clearing her throat uncomfortably. Yes, she had heard. She had even had the strange luck of running into them in a middle of an embrace. A smile appears on her face and she remembers how the girls didn't have to fight against the school for their relationship. It had inspired so many others, to join them under the light. Emma speaks warmly.

"It was the biggest news since the janitor decided to actually clean the halls. I am happy for you, _really_. Finn, bless the boy, was always never enough to hold either of your affections and you two always seemed to be extraordinarily drawn to each other. Believe me when I tell you that I am glad that you have worked things out but I still _can't_."

Rachel opens her mouth. She appears to rebel against the statement and it's all Emma expects. But the logical barrage of carefully constructed arguments doesn't come. Instead, an eerie calm descends on the singer. Her eyes flicker for a moment. She leans back into her seat and uses a disturbingly level reasonable voice.

"I understand. Thank you."

In hindsight, that should have been Emma's first clue. Rachel was backing down; she never did that, at least not without Quinn guiding the way. However in the present moment Emma didn't notice as she nodded her head and maybe… she didn't want to notice. She thinks that if Rachel can find a way to convince Quinn Fabray that they, _she _had a future then…_all the better._

/

Later that afternoon, a footballer stood outside a certain guidance counselor's office, looking around with nervous eyes. Finn was desperately trying to blend in with the cream coloured walls, questioning the morality of this situation. He was allowed to do that now, because Rachel and Kelsey's piercing stare wasn't directed his way. The calculated gleam in his ex-girlfriend's eyes told him that whatever they were doing was at the very least _mildly illegal. _His only job was to stand guard.

Inside there's a bit of shushing and stumbling one of them discovers the light switch. It was hours after school and the sun had gone down behind the trees. The shorter girl wears a baklava and tiptoes across the room, heading straight for the largest file cabinet. Rolling her eyes amusedly, the taller girl is in her normal get up, not even bothering with camouflage or a discreet attitude. She wears confidence like a second skin as she touches and moves _every little object_ around the room. All the right angles were a little disconcerting. Though she has to admit she's more than a little curious about this whole escapade, especially about why squeaky-clean Berry _even owns_ lock picking tools and a near black cat suit.

"Why do you even need me anyway, Rachel?"

All of a sudden, the singer's head pops up from her low position, catching Kelsey off guard. Rachel removes the essentially oversized black sock from her head to free her features. It _was_ getting a bit hot under there. Her dark eyes a scrutinizing as she just stares, almost admonishing the redhead for even asking the question. And the wheels in her brains are turning; Kelsey can see the indecision in her mind as she contemplates throwing out the truth. This time, honesty must be easier than lying because the brunette shrugs her shoulders and explains with a flick of her risk.

"Well other than your notable and loose set of morals, I need you to play the distraction if Finn, otherwise, falls asleep or sees a talking burger."

The statement is said obviously and with a straight face. Kelsey thinks that she's hearing things or Rachel has lost her mind under the tightness of her burglary clothes.

"What?"

A sigh escapes. Tiredly Rachel stops what she's doing and turns around to face the younger girl. She speaks clearly as if she's talking to a child.

"He sees talking food when he gets hungry."

Rachel thinks about the cheerios and what had happened to Mercedes as she continues.

"I mean it's relatively common, but as a boy he seems to be constantly food crazed."

Kelsey snorts in agreement. It's unladylike and positively bourgeois, the sound breaking through layers of social conditioning brought together by tea parties and elaborate three course dinners in lonely large brick houses. Somehow Rachel smiles, she thinks that it makes the girl seem more human, _more relatable. _She remembers how she managed to break down those chains for Quinn…slowly, painfully, _and revolutionarily._

"OK. You said distraction. What do you mean by that?"

Kelsey breaks Rachel's suspended animation. The singer looks confused for a moment. In that annoying in between of day dreaming and being awake. She feels like she's been ripped from the warmth that only thoughts of her girlfriend offers. As a result she stares down at the redhead, not sure whether to glare for the interruption or show gratitude for bringing them back on track. Still, ever the blunt person, Rachel falls back on the obvious, to answer the question. Her tone is airy, knowledgeable and confident.

"Well, over the years I've noticed that Miss Pillsbury seems rather frightened by confrontation, forgetting whatever important point that she was on."

The singer leaves a gap, just daring the young softball player to contradict her. It takes time but Kelsey raises her eyebrows and gradually she begins to see the truth in the statements. Rachel continues as if she is in a seminar giving one of her _special _PowerPoint presentations.

"Often she exhibits this skittish behaviour this around especially strong individuals... Not to mention that you're trained by Sue Sylvester, the resident witch of McKinley High…"

Small gestures of a tan hand communicate the unsaid ending of her point. By this point the conversation has left her completely disinterested and she's filled with a need to achieve her goal. Without a word she dives back into the files. Fabray comes after P, _doesn't it?_

Kelsey meanwhile tries not to look too taken aback. Although she has to admit it is kind of difficult. Her natural reflex flinches from the insult. Whereas the smaller newer self-warms by the twinkle in Rachel's eye. That person feels a grin on her face, both admiring the brunette's gall and beginning to feel accepted. She wouldn't have felt comforted, but she did. Kelsey thinks that this is Rachel Berry's uncanny secret ability, the one that Quinn Fabray didn't see coming. Clearing her throat, the redhead smirks.

"So I'm a bitch and I'm scary, thanks I think?"

A muffles sound comes from behind the office desk.

"You're welcome."

Then Rachel stands up straight, a slight frown marring her expression. She couldn't find that file! Looking around her eyes scan ever object in an eagle like manner, settling on something behind Kelsey. With a strange sense of authority she points in that direction.

"Now look over there, I haven't checked that cabinet yet."

It might take a long time but Kelsey will never quite figure out why she let herself be drawn into this nonsense and ordered around. After all, she had avoided interacting with others before. Still, as a companionable silence settles, melding with the light sounds of ruffling papers she begins to understand. Rachel is single minded, determined and passionate in her quest to discover a certain blonde's secrets. She seems to be in an erratic state where love and care collide. And since Kelsey takes a breather, she learns that that image is beautiful; furrowed brows, pursed lips and bright eyes. All that the redhead can think is that childhood fairytales were misleading because relationships never had full disclosure. It could just be that this background story of furious detective work may be the true essence of romance.

Five, ten and then twenty-five minutes pass. Both girls are slumped against their respective walls in the office, looking tired and fruitless. Neither will bring themselves to leave though. Giving up isn't something they know how to do. Uncaring of the eventual mess Kelsey folds one of the loose sheets she had found into an airplane and flies it. The projectile makes a loop to loop before landing in the singer's lap. It causes Rachel to snap up and meet her gaze. Softly and cautiously, the redhead utters her thoughts.

"Rachel…whatever you want to know about Quinn. You _can_ just ask her. You're probably the only one who can."

A bittersweet smile crawls on both their faces. It sounds simpler than it is but Kelsey still continues.

"She cares about you… so she won't lie."

They both linger on that last thought. Rachel smiles gently. She realizes that Kelsey and Quinn are similar but not the same. Astoundingly the redhead had managed to keep her personality safe and intact from her parents, whether through snarky comments or misdirected rage. She is actually more put together in many ways because Finn could ask her hard questions and she _could_ answer them. She could do so without fear and long awaited breakdowns. Quinn wasn't so lucky. Her upbringing is deep rooted in her character. Maybe at the start, the younger version of the blonde had been too open, too loving or too kind. So much so that she couldn't protect herself from Russell's influence, _disappearing under every insult, admonishment and derogatory action_.

Rachel thinks she should try and explain. She hopes in the process a solution will reveal itself and also she just needs somebody to talk to.

"No, you're right. She won't lie… But she'll _feel _threatened, force herself to open up and loose that vital sense of independence_. _I find that certain things about Quinn are harder to deal with than others. Being strong and outwardly untouchable is _so encoded_ into her character, that the truth? Her vulnerabilities? It actually _hurts_ her to speak out loud."

Kelsey deflates. She thinks that everything is so much clearer when bright brown eyes are nearly masked by tears. For a second, entirely against her character the redhead wants to go over and comfort Rachel. And although she never does act on it, she _can_ give the singer her undivided attention because Kelsey admits that she's learning a few things about her blonde haired captain. Different perspectives and conclusions can be garnered from a lover, as opposed to a sister in arms. Rachel's hands wrap around her knees, no longer moving enigmatically. Her voice is low but serious and she stares openly.

"So yes, I could ask her. And she _would_ tell me. But in the process she will compromise that part of her personality. I _don't _want to ask her to do that."

There's a gap as they are left alone with their thoughts and memories. Kelsey looks down to her hands, where her index and thumb finger are rubbing against each other. She remembers a trick that Quinn had been teaching her about gripping when pitching the softball yesterday. The blonde had been kind but _sad_ about the world, her movements slower and almost ghostlike. She was barely there. The redhead also thinks about Rachel, her mannerisms, expressions and eyes when related to Quinn Fabray. Feeling the strength of the diva's emotions, Kelsey closes her eyes, leaning her head against the back wall. She makes the decision to trust Rachel Berry with the safety of her best and sometimes only friend. She hands over the folder that was hidden next to her spot. The redhead had found it the moment she entered the room…

"Here, just be careful. Knowing how we feel is one thing but acting on it is another."

Kelsey's blue eyes pierce through the diva. The use of the term 'we' instead of 'she' does not go unnoticed. Rachel only wonders what she'll find about the redhead in this folder. She can only nod dumbly as she receives the package. In her hands it feels ten times heavier than it should. The responsibility weighs on her shoulder and she nods again; this time, with certainty and determination.

The redhead smiles in acknowledgement and runs her hand through her hair.

"You know you could have asked Santana."

It causes Rachel to pause on her way to the door. She turns and crosses her arms defensively.

"I _could_… But despite our tentative friendship due to my relationship to Quinn, I have no desire to exhaust all of the good will that Santana seems to have given me."

For the briefest of moments, Rachel thinks she sees the small spark of hurt transition into hurt on the redhead. Kelsey straightens her muscles, shutting a mask over her emotion. Nobody _should have _caught her vulnerability. But then again, nobody _should have been _trained by Quinn to dissect people like herself apart. Rachel softens and she tugs at the hem of her skirt subconsciously. So, with pink tinged cheeks and a surprisingly shy tone, she speaks the truth, if only to make sure that Kelsey Edwards doesn't make the mistake of _assuming_ that no one cared.

"I guess, I wanted to spend some time and get to know you. Quinn looks out for you, like a reluctant big sister. And Finn will eventually gather enough courage to ask you out on a date."

At this the redhead's flush becomes obvious as she looks away. Embarrassment and merriment mix together to cause butterflies. Rachel takes a friendly step forward.

"Kelsey, it seems as if you are going to be a member of New Directions, this little extended family for a long time. I understand your background and that nobody has given you all that much attention, so I'm making an effort."

Few people in the world know what to do in the face if genuine sincerity. An offer for a second chance sounds like a foreign concept, one that the redhead's childhood has never afforded. So she has no idea how to respond appropriately. She is suspicious of the open helping hand and yet above all else she wants to fall to her knees in gratitude. The acceptable medium in between is hard to find. Maybe Rachel sees this because she grabs one of Kelsey's hands and captures her attention.

"Look I know that you _are_ a good person…and all you need is someone to bat for you in your corner."

Closing her eyes, Kelsey shakes her head at herself.

"And that's you?"

"God no."

Rachel's reply comes automatically. The sparkling shine in her brown orbs coupled with a reassuring grin keeps Kelsey's angry reaction at bay. The brunette seems to nod approvingly at that control and elaborates on her previous statement, knowing _exactly _how it could be misconstrued.

"I couldn't wield a bat to save my life, being so horrible at sports, but… I'll spread the word."

A small smile is followed by a shared chuckle. There is camaraderie between the two girls now that only comes from shared understanding and joint criminal activities. Kelsey rubs her neck, looking up slowly; the word comes out far easier than it has in the past. There's more feeling in it as well, no longer _just _a polite reply.

"Thanks."

/

In the coming days, Rachel is busy. She's a flurry of activity in her room, in the school halls and during glee. The girl barely talks to anyone as she carries sheets and files from room to room. Brittany is confused whilst Santana is suspicious. Quinn in her mild catatonic stupor lacks the energy to comment. She has a feeling that she didn't want to know. However truth be told, she was also _so_ consumed in her own pity and distaste in her father that she _just doesn't care_ about _what_ her active little girlfriend is up to. Part of her wonders if this is the beginning of the end, this apathetic nature. She was a Fabray after all; maybe it's in the genes.

Still as classes continue, she's saved by one small thing. _Quinn misses Rachel by her side; _whether the girl was animated or not. The blonde craves her presence. It breaks through her walls and for some strange reason her eyes well up with tears, clouding her vision. Breathing becomes hard. And for a moment she _doesn't _understand the world. Why couldn't she get out of Lima? Could she follow Rachel to New York? Would she end up being a burden? The multitude of thoughts causes her head to spin and she growls under her breath, trying to regain _some_ calmness. She hears a familiar voice down the hall. Instinctively she smiles and tilts her head as if to get closer. Rachel is at the end of the hallway, talking to someone…_their science teacher?_ The brunette wears purpose like a second skin as she points to areas on a sheet of paper. It looks like a college application. A bittersweet wave crashes into the blonde. _Right, college and futures; _it reminds Quinn of her uncertainty and Russell's words. _Pipe dream…not good enough…_

Quinn runs out of the halls, out of the school and into her car. She barely gets to her house without incident and cries into her pillow. There are stains from the other times and she realizes this year she's experienced the extremes of every emotion next to Rachel. Heartbreak is certain but so is the happiness. The girl wishes that she had to power to control time, to hold graduation back. And despite the hurt and pain, she is certain that her heart is acceptable collateral for loving the singer.

/

Rachel rushes around her house, clipping her raincoat on and searching for the sturdiest umbrella. It is raining _hard, _with whistling winds blowing the tops of trees into a strange slant. Her mind is frantic with worry with only one person to focus on. She's almost completely sure that she caught a glimpse of her girlfriend's distraught expression running out of the halls. Rachel had been talking to Mr O'Hanley…about Quinn. The brunette looks down at the papers clutched in her hand. Printouts of previous acceptance cutoffs to every medical school across the country matched to the blonde's grades. The research is extensive, all pointing to one singular fact. The blonde _could and would _be admitted to medical school.

When she had read Miss Pillsbury's profile of Quinn's session, the brunette felt parts of her world slip away. A profound sadness flooded her mind, reminding her that progress was fluid, incremental and… _entirely reversible. _It would never make sense to her, how somebody so talented could think so lowly of their own abilities. And with cruel parents and sensitive children, fairness seemed to be doled out with a questionable hand in Lima. Rachel sees everything when it comes to the blonde, the small quirks, the combination of expressions and the larger picture. She supposes that that is the reason why this pains her so. At this point, the brunette doesn't have much else to bargain with, she's already willing to give everything. The stacks of extra application sit on her desk. She makes a mental note to fill them out later.

The pivotal fact is that, if Quinn decided that she didn't want New York and chose the school furthest from Rachel herself. The singer would do her best to help her girlfriend get there. Because, this meant that there was at least a spark of life in the softball player, a belief in better things and an understanding that no matter what _she is …enough. _She's a good enough daughter. She's a good enough Christian. She's a good enough student.

"Rachel Barbra Berry! What do you think you are doing? It is raining cats and dogs out there! You are not walking out in that."

Her hand that was reaching for the door quickly snaps back in surprise. Hiram stands at the bottom of the stairs adjusting his spectacles and crossing his arms disapprovingly. Normally Rachel would feel chastised. As it stands she doesn't feel anything except the need to talk Quinn.

"You don't understand, Dad. I have to see Quinn."

She had bright blazing eyes and a tense stance. The father sighs, dropping his shoulders.

"Oh honey, I know all relationships feel like that at first, but you won't actually die if you spend some time apart. Whatever it is it can wait till tomorrow."

Rachel has a logical well thought out composure but this time reason escapes her. The exasperation that comes with her father's misunderstanding takes control of her faculties and she actually emits a growl. For the first time she feels frustrated with the man and her hands and leg muscles twitch. They scream and indicate her readiness to ignore everything and just bolt. Brain signals tell her to run, to show Quinn her news. So with none of her usual consideration she faces her father completely. She squares her shoulders the way that the blonde has taught her how to do and firmly states her peace.

"No. Her future is at stake."

Hiram is blindsided by the finality in his daughter's tone. She normally never questioned him, believing that fathers knew this. It causes the man to pause and re-examine the worry in her tone.

"Rachel, what is it?"

The singer opens her mouth automatically to reveal everything. However, a flash of blonde appears in her mind and thankfully she stops herself. She tries to ignore her fathers concern and desire to know the situation because she's more than sure that Quinn could barely handle her own weakness let alone letting them be broadcast. Doing this fights against the very fiber of the brunette because she has _never _kept _anything_ from her parents. She compromises this part of herself so Quinn won't have to. Rachel's hesitance is clear.

"It's complicated, I can't tell you right now. But please I have to get to her. As dramatic as it sounds I need to save her from herself."

Hiram places a hand on his daughter's shoulder. He ignores the fear he feels as a parent when a child has a problem that they refuse to tell you about because Rachel is growing up. The irrationality that is usually present in her features is gone, replaced by a measured sense of purpose, no longer rampant but tastefully focused. Her care for Quinn is completely unselfish. He smiles lightly.

"I thought you liked dramatic. You always said, it makes life interesting."

"Not like this..."

The words are uttered lowly. Hiram only detects it because he's so close. However Rachel slowly looks up. She has an almost shy quality when she stares of to the distance.

"I don't know anymore. The whole thing: marriage, family, kids and maybe a picket fence. Simplicity has never sounded so wonderful."

The father chuckles heartedly.

"Honey, life is never simple. But it _is_ easier with someone like Quinn around."

Rachel launches herself into her father's arms, burrowing her face into his familiar brown sweater. She's so thankful for his honesty and ability to capture her emotions and place it in words. Funnily enough, Quinn has that same talent, when she helps the singer navigate through glee members and intimating characters.

"She takes care of you doesn't she?"

Hiram asks. He feels his daughter nod in his arms and he already knows the outcome.

"I'll drive you to her house."

/

_Bang-Bang. Pause. Bang-Bang-Bang._

Frantic knocks are made against the Fabray's mansion like doors. Sniffling in her room, Quinn entrenches herself further into her covers, hoping that the person would just leave already. Her mother was on a church trip and the blonde was left alone. After the initial sadness that comes with the often-empty house, she'd learnt to appreciate it. It's easier to cry when no one was around anyway because there's no need to hastily hide the red eyes or puffy cheeks. She's not used to feeling so useless and if she was being honest she hadn't thought about staying in Lima as even an option since Rachel.

_Bang-Bang. Pause. Bang-Bang-Bang._

Quinn glares at the floorboards as if to will the person away. With her crossed arms and dug in heels, it seems a battle of wills with some unknown stranger. But unfortunately she is already weakened by the events that have happened. And she's nearly broken whenever her mind decides to ignore her firmly placed commands and lingers on the topic of Rachel. The thoughts range from their lack of recent contact to the unpleasant future.

A bitter chuckle escapes. Quinn imagines that the brunette would admonish and most probably try to force some sense into her, if she knew.

_Bang-Bang. Pause. Bang-Bang-Bang._

In annoyance and a desire to be alone the blonde goes downstairs to get the door. She's in the right mind to release some latent fury on the unsuspecting person on the other side. She thinks that it's their fault for being so persistent anyway. So nearly ripping the door of its hinges she throws her residual insecurities out there.

"What do you want?"

"To talk to you."

_Rachel…_Quinn hears her girlfriend's leveled voice before she actually registers the sight before her. The brunette is nearly drenched from the distance she had to make from the car on the sidewalk to the front door. Hiram waves sheepishly from the vehicle. His daughter is shivering, with red cheeks and blue tinged lips. All the blonde can think is that Rachel Berry is still _beautiful._ She _knows _that she might be delirious and perhaps a little crazy from the isolation of her room but Quinn wants to break down into hoarse laughter. She wonders what she, herself, must look like; dressed in baggy clothes with obvious signs of crying. She can pinpoint _exactly when_ the worry starts to cloud the singer's eyes. However familiar defense mechanisms activate to deflect the attention away. And whilst the pianist won't do it in the form of taunts anymore, it comes out as overdone concern of hypothermia. She hugs the smaller girl to her body trying to generate warmth, dragging them both inside.

A thick woolen blanket and two cup of hot chocolate later there's a comfortable silence. Quinn is just content to watch her girlfriend, as the shivers dissipate and blood returns to those full lips. Rachel on the other hand just doesn't know how to bring everything out in the open. Her furious bravery had dwindled away the second she saw the blonde's tear filled face. And judging from the subtly defensive posture anything Rachel says will hurt or threaten Quinn's foundations… But then again the vision of her girlfriend staying behind to marry a faceless man and force her way to the top of a job that she didn't want, it cause Rachel to lurch. Her hands shake and she _can't _let the ex-cheerleader's self-destructive lies continue.

So with a burst of courage, Rachel brings the stacks of papers from under her coat to the coffee table. She expects the blonde to ask what it was or to even go read it for herself. However Quinn remains still as a statue with a focused eye. The brunette mouth feels dry and when she shivers it's not because of the cold. Fear mixes with passionate worry and she almost wants to shy away. For, the pianist refuses to resurface from the mask and for the first time in a while Rachel can't read through the walls. It scares her to think that perhaps there was nothing left to see.

"Those are college cutoffs for the last five years, to Yale, Duke, Harvard or even Penn State. I talked to Mr O'Hanley about your grades and he asked a few of his contacts in the science departments…they're eager to meet you for interviews. Some has even sent over extra materials for you to get ahead in your studies!"

Cell by cell, Quinn swears she can feel her senses shut down and disappear. Mentally she's staggering. What do you do when someone offers you _everything? _The only logical choice would be to take it. However, the blonde doesn't know how. Hazel eyes become slightly frantic as she shakes her head quietly to herself. Maybe it's because despite her large house and expensive ornaments, nobody has ever tried to help her find that elusive happiness. She's trained to find the flaws in all aspects of her life; qualities that constantly _should be _improved. And in a moment of confusion she falls back on old tendencies and indoctrinations.

The blonde zeroes in on unimportant qualities like the fact that her father might have been right. She's so weak that someone else has to _help her. _One look at Rachel, and Quinn knows that her fears and uncertainties are on display for the entire world to see. The brunette emits overflowing concern and it suffocates. Pale hands shake, going to grip her head. Her memories replay and she notices how lately people regarded her differently, kinder and more sympathetic. Her stomach feels heavier; every small action feels like pity. It tastes sour in her mouth.

"I can't believe you, Rachel. How could you do this?"

Her hoarse tone sounds out. Shocked, the brunette shrugs away the heavy blankets and jumps to her girlfriend's side. Tan hands caress those perfectly carved cheekbones. The contact doesn't last very long as Quinn shrugs away the touch moving to a stand. She can't be close to Rachel right now. She feels fragile when she needs to be angry… because rage is strong. _Right?_

Tears slip gracefully down her face as she begins to yell.

"This is none of your business!"

Rachel stands to join Quinn. She wasn't going to let the girl put any distance between them, hierarchical, metaphorical or otherwise. That, and she is a little angry too. For the first time since this saga began, she shows how annoyed she is by the blonde's lack of faith in everything except god, just because a Flaxen haired alcoholic said so. She shows how much it rips her apart to think that Quinn believes so strongly that they won't end up together, that all their planning was for naught.

"What are you talking about Quinn? You have _nothing_ to worry about. Everything you've ever wanted is in here. You can get in. You _don't_ have to be a real estate agent."

"I – I can't."

Quinn stutters. She's never done that in front of people before, always being told that it wasn't something Fabrays did, that it was a sign of poor character. Surprisingly in the almost silent house it's those lessons that come flooding back, clashing with her feelings for Rachel. There's a stubborn part of her that believes the singer and wants to hold the brunette in her arms to say, _please help me because I love you._ But it doesn't win as she takes a step back.

"Rachel, you had no right to do things on my behalf like that. It's _not_ your problem! Why do you keep interfering in everything I do! Because of you, I couldn't be a proper Cheerio. You just sucked me into Glee did you know that?"

Quinn pauses. She never meant to reveal that much. Her reasons hadn't been pure but it was Rachel that made her join and stay in the group. Mostly because the blonde wanted to revenge and to monitor the confident girl who seemed so comfortable in her questionably dressed skin. Though now, it was because she craved the diva's presence, like the warmth of the sun. Quinn finds that serenity in Rachel's smiles.

"I can't do _anything_ without thinking about you, thinking about how you would feel and whether you'd approve…"

There's a gap. It was a statement out of the blue. However by the sounds of it and the heavy breathing afterwards it was a long time coming, calming the both of them down. Eventually, a tired Quinn would look up and ask.

"How did you even find out anyway? Miss Pillsbury isn't allowed to say anything…"

The moment the words come out they both wonder why it was even said. Realization dawns and they wished that it was ok, that this didn't hurt. The shame on Rachel's face is more illuminating than if someone had showed Quinn a video of what had happened. The brunette can't seem to hold her gaze anymore and looks down. The blonde closes her eyes. Suddenly, she's both furious and empty. The gross invasion of her privacy notwithstanding, it was the fact that she couldn't control her emotions in the very first place, that somebody else knew that she wasn't _strong_.

Quinn would like to think that she would have told Rachel sooner or later but then again she would also like to think that her father was a good person.

"Oh but of course Rachel Berry just _has_ to know. You read my file didn't you…"

Sarcastic scathing tones fill the room Rachel tries to move closer, to apologize but she's not nearly fast enough. Quinn knows the backwards step well. The blonde holds a warning hand up.

"Just don't! Don't, ok? Stop trying _do_ things for me."

_I don't deserve it…_The thought is left unsaid behind a pain filled expression. Rachel drops her hand. As the minutes pass, and Quinn continues to say _nothing, _the brunette's small frame begins to shake. Her fists are clenched and there's fire behind her eyes. The distance between them are reduced and the singer leans into her girlfriend's space.

"Why? Why? Are you allowed to help me? You protect me from everything, because you love me."

Pause. This time Rachel is glaring.

"Well, guess what I love you too!"

The usually warm confession is spat out distastefully. Quinn almost flinches. She's a little scared to move. All Rachel can think is _good _because maybe this meant that she was _finally getting through. _She desperately needs this to work. Her small hands circle the blonde's waist, gripping firmly. She leans their foreheads together. It's a familiar gesture that brings them back to their beginnings. The volume of her words is softer but they still hold the same impact.

"This is supposed to be a relationship of equals. I'm not going to deny it; I've been relying on you a lot with friends, bullies…sex? But don't you dare stand there and tell me that I'm not supposed to help you when you need it. Not when you're going to throw away everything that you've worked for..."

Tears slide down porcelain features and in a second the blonde is weakly trying to push the other girl away. She thinks that she doesn't need this, that she doesn't want it. It's not the first time this week that she's going to get it all wrong. But this time, Rachel is determined to make her see. The singer grabs Quinn's wrists, trying to keep her place. Her voice rises.

"I'm _not_ going to be in a relationship where my girlfriend decides that I'm not allowed to worry or care about her because she wants to suffer alone. This isn't about me, and what I want. It isn't even about _us_."

Rachel is surprisingly strong. Quinn thinks that it's from all those childhood dancing lessons. It's a random thought but she tries to use it to shield her mind from the singer's penetrating words. She succeeds for a while before the diva's forceful lips are pressed against hers, stealing her air, her control and probably the leftovers of her resistance. They both think that they can taste tears but they don't know who was the one crying. The peace is then ripped away when they part. Rachel tries one more time.

"No! This is about _you_, and the fact that you might be _so afraid_ to go for something great that you'd prefer not to advance at all!"

The singer takes a breath.

"I _love _you. I'm always trying to be the best version of myself I can be, for you, for me, for us. So don't you dare, Quinn..."

The blonde is busy touching her fingers to her still warm lips, trying to remember the sensation. She wants to say that she understood, that suddenly she had the magical epiphany that Rachel was indeed right; if only to see a smile from the smaller girl. But whilst she hid things, she's not ready to lie to her girlfriend. More likely than not, Rachel would see past it anyway.

"I'm…going to go home. I hope you take the time to go through the papers that I've brought and realize that your father was just grasping at straws that don't even exist. You_ are_ worth helping. Find me when you're ready."

Quinn nods dumbly as Rachel places a chaste longing kiss on her cheek. The sound of the large double doors closing carries a sense of finality coupled with the sounds of the Berry family car driving away. The pianist whips her head around just in time to get to the windows and see the taillights in the distance before disappearing. In the silence of the room, the blonde's eyes are drawn to the information on the coffee table. She remembers that she loves Rachel. She realizes that separate lives in New York and Lima couldn't deliver her any happiness and as such, it _just would not do._

So, with a noticeable swallow she begins to read…

/

The next morning the Berry house is awoken by a couple of well-paced knocks to the door. Rachel being the most alert at this time drags herself down the stairs to the door. She wears messy hair and bleary eyes. She has a crick in her neck from last night's fitful sleep. It was hard to erase the image of a haunted Quinn, not that she wanted to. She tries not to think about her own harsh words. Instead focusing on the locks as she opens the door. Momentarily, she's blinded by the brilliance of the sun only to be greeted by a much more welcome picture.

The blonde has stacks of papers in her fist. She's _also still _in her pajamas but her eyes seem lighter, no longer plagued by persistent demons. A tentative smile crawl on both of their faces and before they can register much else they are in each other's arms. Printed sheets scatter to the ground around them and it doesn't matter because Quinn is busy muttering apologies into the singer's dark luscious hair and Rachel is too relieved to speak. They hold each other tight and don't actually register the time that passes.

The only indicator is when they are eventually called to breakfast. One of them will wonder just exactly when the Berry fathers woke up and came down to make the pancakes and omelets.

/

Quinn sits in the guidance counselor's office for the second time in a week. With Rachel's assistance, they had rescheduled the session and the blonde was now armed with her very own colour coded folder of applications. One that on a few pages was marred by jam splatters and strangely smelled of bacon and eggs. It had been an eventful morning. Miss Pillsbury's smile lights up the room as she recognizes the organizational format, after seeing a similar one days ago. That one had been filled with performing arts interests.

"I have no doubt that you would function well in medical school, Quinn. But if you don't mind me asking, what brought on the change? You were pretty certain about Lima for the rest of your life the last time I saw you. "

Quinn wears a coy smile and she brushes a strand of blonde hair back. There's something in the counselor's eyes that tell her she already knows. The pianist has grown over the past few days. She doesn't need to be encouraged or forced anymore. She's ready to admit that sometimes she needed help, somebody exactly like her explosive singer.

"I have someone in my life that keeps me from doing stupid things. She doesn't want me to have any regrets."

Emma nods. They spend the rest of the hour checking up on the finer points of college entry. The redhead pours her attention over the documents whilst the blonde walks around the room reading the labels on the spines of the books on the tall shelf. In the smallest corner she notices a couple of self-help books with strange titles and she can't help but pause. They're hidden away as if it would be a crime to acknowledge them in the light with the others. With a soft voice she turns around and asks the busy redhead a question.

"Why don't you give Mr Schue a chance?"

The question causes Emma's head whip up nervously. A flush covers her features as she notes where the blonde was standing and what she must have read. The redhead is stuttering as she starts to rearrange everything in close vicinity again; right, acute and obtuse angles. She can't stop it it's like a bodily requirement that she's compelled to obey as her heart rate increases.

"Uh, well there are many um ah barriers between us right now. And I don't know if it is appropriate to talk to a student about this."

Quinn softens under the higher pitch in the counselor's tone registering the distress. She goes back to her chair, pocketing one of the books on her way. This move seems to provide a calming action, somewhat, as Miss Pillsbury's actions become a little less jerky. The pianist contemplates her options. The old her would have just left it there and turned away. With thought of Rachel, she finds herself wanting to try something new. Quinn retrieves the book from her lap and slips it on the center of the counselor's desk.

_How to deal with OCD…_

Despite Emma's wide eyes and pounding heartbeats, she forces herself to listen to the soothing voice of the blonde haired student.

"Look, maybe the issue here isn't with Mr Schue. He loves you, his eyes follow you around and he smiles at all the little things you do. So maybe it's actually something in you that is holding yourself back."

There's a pause. The ex-cheerleader fluidly separates the redhead's grip from the glass paper weight.

"This?"

Quinn waves the previously held object. It shines strangely under the light. Emma's eyes follow it. Her hands feel empty with nothing to arrange. Calming breaths her psychologist said. The pianist tilts her head encouragingly at the redhead's attempts to relax herself. She keeps their eye contact and speaks. It sounds like she knows what she's saying and in a way she does. There are astounding parallels to their circumstances.

"You have to accept that part of yourself first."

With that, the blonde heads to the door, eager to find a certain singer for lunch. Before she opens the door she hears quiet words of gratitude.

"Quinn, thank you."

It causes the pianist to turn around. Blue meets hazel greens. She shrugs her shoulders slightly.

"We're all a little ashamed sometimes… The people that love us will stand by us."

As she is being left alone, Emma thinks there's an alarming sense of maturity and knowledge embedded in that statement. And later that day when, she crosses the path to her car and sees Rachel and Quinn sitting on the grass of the softball field, she'll figure out where the blonde's wisdom comes from. They're simply eating ice cream and pointing at strange shapes in the sky but it seems as if those two girls have been graced with the gift of having the trickier parts of life figured out.

/

Merry Christmas guys. Tell me what you think if you have the time to spare between family and presents. =)


	20. Chapter 20 Downtime

Chapter 20 – Downtime

Hi, new chapter anyone? =D I'm a very bad person I know I promised more quicker updates but study load makes it impossible. So it probably is going to more enjoyable for most of you to read this fic when it is completed. However if you want to stick by me and keep reading chapter by chapter, that'd be awesome. Reviews keep a busy university student happy and sane. And of course shoutout time:

_Phoebex13 _Russell won't be back I promise. =) and you're great simply for being my first reviewer during Christmas time.

_Feintidea _Now worries I love bad analogies. So thankyou for making one =D Hopefully you enjoy this chapter as well. Wanted to go into all the characters a little more.

_Faithx5452 _Well endings may lead to new beginnings. But regardless there's still atleast 5-6 more chapters to go for this story. So you're stuck with me for a little longer. =)

_tygRrr _Thanks for the kind words. The inner romantic in me gets free reign when writing these two.

/

Rachel wakes up to a picture-perfect morning. The sun streams between the curtains of her room making a wisp like pattern on her walls. A light breeze dances over her face. The smile comes automatically. She feels well rested and positively hums in the knowledge that so far, all is well. Quinn seemingly is beginning to shed those self-doubt tendencies. The brunette finds that that familiar warmth she associates with the blonde is becoming more powerful and probably just a little all consuming.

A buzzing brings her attention to her phone and without a thought she flips it open.

_Good morning beautiful, I'm in my pjs and am eating a slice of toast. See you in ten. I love you – Quinn._

No 'xxx' kisses and hugs. It is simply short, sweet and an incredibly romantic start to the day. Rachel Berry is learning to appreciate the small things. The girls had gotten into the habit of texting every morning, afternoon and night, whenever they couldn't be physically near each other. The contents of their messages were never important, only the notion of communication and some kind of shared experience mattered in their minds. The brunette now knows that Quinn has a ritual before she sleeps. The ex-cheerleader brushes her teeth once, washes her face twice; before and after, and then spends a certain amount of time next to a particular part of her wall. And whenever there was a 10 second delay in response, it meant that the blonde was rereading their previous words with a chuckle and a small quirk of the lips.

So when Rachel gets out of bed and goes out to check the mailbox she's not prepared for what will happen. Because when her luscious dark hair is perfectly in place without any effort and when she's _already walking of air, _the thought of any more good news seems greedy and in excess. The envelope in her hands is large to protect the documents inside. The packaging looks important stamped with insignias and organized no-nonsense font. It takes a moment to actually understand the meaning behind the lines on the page when the diva finally opens it…

Afterwards, Rachel glares at the sky because she was _finally _getting used to the idea, that she could be happy by just having _enough_. The singer had been becoming rather attached to the idea that she didn't always have to pursue something _better _when really; she could simply enjoy everything that was great about the present. In an act of childish avoidance, she takes the letter and slips it between her books. She'll admit that she never expected to feel this way. She'll admit that maybe she's _changed_ after experiences this year. That said, Rachel is still shocked that there's no sense of excitement or happiness following the invitation on that sheet of paper. _It should be the best news._

/

Santana braids Brittany's hair; she trades witticisms with Sue and likes to make fun of her favourite teacher's strange obsession with vests. The dark haired girl is a figure to be wary around in McKinley halls, sneering and threatening those that dared to make attacks on her 'people'. She is also keyed into the dynamics of everyone's interactions. Since childhood, she could spot a break up or a hook up from a mile away. Call it a talent or whatever. So that day, when she starts to notice strange new behaviours coming from her kind-of friend, Rachel Berry, Santana is thrown into a confused loop for the first time in ages. In class, Rachel is skittish; her hand fidgets in her lap despite Quinn's attempts at reassurance. The singer would be here animatedly talking in one moment and be off in another world in the next, wearing worry lines and a frown.

And Quinn tries to help in her own way. Hazel eyes would trace over her girlfriend worryingly and yet despite it all, the blonde still refuses to pry. She is certain that when the singer was ready, Rachel would speak, and probably not a second sooner. From the moment, Rachel slipped into her car; the pianist could tell that there was something bothering the brunette. Instead of confronting, Quinn had turned on the radio, hoping to find some slow songs to sooth the singer's frayed nerves. At that moment, the kind act must have reached the diva because a bout of awareness returned to chocolate orbs. Rachel smiled adoringly, acknowledging the effort. The rest of the morning drive to school was continued with hands held together over the console.

That was then and now, nothing much has changed. Everyone is in the cafeteria, shoveling down the latest rendition of grandma's dense meatloaf and tater-tots. Santana tries not to snarl at the ball of masticated food that sprays out of one footballer's mouth as she makes her way through the line. The downside of the new no-bullying edict was that cheerleaders and jocks could no longer just ascend to the start of the line. However Santana finds that if she tilts her head a certain way and smiles large enough to reveal her perfect canines, students would still oh so graciously vacate their positions. The Latina smirks, reaching for the proffered tray. Well, what Brittany and Quinn didn't know wouldn't hurt them…

As the uniformed woman rings up her order, Santana takes a slow scan of the tables. In their exiled glee club haven, Puck was gesturing emphatically to Quinn, no doubt trying to convince her of the importance of his latest party plan. The blonde appears tired, refusing requests to use her home as the latest breeding ground for alcohol induced stupors. She blatantly rolls her eyes as his attempts of a pleading expression, wondering how she could have ever had found that remotely appealing. Instead Quinn's focus, settles on her girl beside her. Quietly, she rubs slow circles in Rachel's tan palms. The brunette shakes her head slightly at everyone's antics, placing a thankful kiss on her girlfriend's lips. There is something in her eyes that jars Quinn, even when Rachel's trying to be light and problem free. To her dismay, Santana finds that it bothers her when anything tries to threaten the bond between Quinn and Rachel. Probably because she thinks that both girls are too damn naïve and caring to understand how secrets, doubt and regret work to unhinge a relationship. Or maybe Sue was right; the care-bear attitudes were finally taking over the world.

With a casual push off, Santana heads over the table, making sure to grab extra snack packs for Brittany. The Latina ruffles her hair as she thinks that she'll hit two birds with one stone. If she had to watch, let alone hear Puck whine about his party one more time…she would seriously consider shaving his Mohawk right off. He was less of a pain without it, all quiet, humble and domesticated like.

"Quinn, c'mon I said I wouldn't ruin the place last time and I didn't. Your house has a pool and the whole set up."

Santana catches the tail end of his speech. Rolling her eyes, she drops her tray on the table catching everyone's attention. She puts herself next to Brittany, smiling gently and handing the taller girl the chocolate flavored desserts. Then without a word she shoves Puck off the bench seat. The footballer thinks of retaliating but the look directed his way causes him to think twice. He might be a rebel but everyone knew that Santana had anger management issues. With a grunt, he sends a look her way.

"Convince her, Santana. We all need a day to unwind before Nationals."

"Yeah, yeah, go now, Puck. Men are useless. It's girl talk time."

She waves him away dismissively. Quinn sends her a look of thanks, whilst Rachel, despite her busy eyes cracks a smile.

"Q, Puck's got a point, you know. Glee club could use a day to chill before Nationals. And Britts and I gots to renew our tan."

Quinn groans into Rachel's shoulder. The singer is amused as she runs her finger up and down her girlfriend's back. It supposed to be just comforting but she can feel the shudders under her touch. Ever since that night, each moment had been a reminder to how _good_ they felt together. And whilst they didn't escalate much, the promise and the taste were there. The pianist's reactions momentarily bring Rachel back to the present and away from _that letter _that she was sure was burning a hole in her bag. As the diva's fingers travel from the blonde's hip to the junction when Quinn's neck met shoulder she notices a few things. Undoubtedly her breathing is heavier and she's acutely aware that Quinn's small shuffling movement causes their bodies to rub slightly against each other. The softball captain started holding onto Rachel's knee underneath the table for support and the singer gasps. When she looks up, she meets Santana's knowing smirks and leers.

"Why would you want a party, Santana? Everyone drank too much last time."

The brunette asks on her girlfriend's behalf. It takes a few moments for Quinn to regain composure and return to the conversation. Her blush is obvious against her pale skin. As Brittany dives into her pudding she can't help but wonder if Quinn was having the same problem Lord Tubbington had when his collar was too tight. The pianist was turning so red!

"Well other than the pleasure of seeing the both of you in the skimpiest swimsuit that you can manage, it gots to be good for everyone. With exams, championships _and _Nationals, it'll be a decent break."

Santana speaks as she tries to fluff her hair, staring at her compact mirror. When she's done she meets the unconvinced look on her friend's faces. She sighs heavily.

"Also Pucks gotta be getting on your last nerve by now."

Rachel scoffs slightly. When the Latina speaks again it is not directed at her. Santana stares hard at Quinn.

"Q, do this and… we're _finally_ even."

Brittany and the pianist's heads snap up at the words. Eyes filled with curiosity and wariness. Quinn couldn't fathom what her friend was up to. Santana was willing to give up her _largest_ trump card… for a party? Rachel's confusion flickers between all three girls. She was clearly missing something. Her girlfriend seems to tighten and flex her hand, biting her lower lip in thought.

"…Ok. Done."

Santana nods, standing up. Without so much a look in Rachel's direction, she commands.

"Berry, you're with me for the rest of the day. After school, we've gots to go shopping. There is not way I'm letting you go to the party with a swimsuit from grandma's summer collection."

With furrowed brows, Rachel is about to respond but Santana's sharp look causes her to stand to attention. Yes, the Latina hadn't lost her touch. The singer turns questioningly at Quinn but blonde shrugs her shoulders, knowing nothing about the situation. However she was sure that there was no danger other than her missing the singer's presence for the foreseeable hours. Quinn suspects that despite her taunts and criticisms, Santana actually liked Rachel. At the very least, the Latina was willing to survive constant attempts by the diva to correct her speech during meals and double dates. And, that was already saying a lot. Sometimes, the feisty ex-cheerleader even made the concession to use proper vernacular _just to shut Berry up. _And in those moments, all Quinn could think was that her friend had never tried to _shut her teachers or her parents up _in the same manner. No, Rachel was fast becoming an exception. It seemed she was the solvent that would break down the resistance of all the alpha girls.

She lets out a slow exhale as Rachel leaves with Brittany and Santana. The pianist takes the time to stare at her hands and try and figure out the possible things that could be bothering the singer. It says something that Quinn cares far too much to let this go completely. Alone at her table, the blonde chuckles in disbelief, she ruffles her hand through short hair and wonders what Rachel Berry had done to her. The fast worried beating of her heart was exhilarating and she could picture the joy that would enter chocolate eyes when they figured out the problem, together. The girls are currently uncertain about their lives and Quinn loves every minute of it. Funnily enough, signs of trouble don't scare her, not when her thoughts are focused on the happy ending. It's all a part of the things, which make her want to dance in the rain and smile at the sky.

/

"Santana, why did you bring me here? Despite your obvious assumptions, I _do_ own a two piece bathing suit that can be quite flattering."

Rachel's clear voice cuts across the entrance as the girls enter the large shopping complex. She is promptly ignored. The brunette wonders if she'll just be able to slink away and not be noticed but she's somehow sure that Santana would find some creative way to drag her back kicking and screaming. However if the singer is being honest she needs this time away from Quinn. The small girl wasn't used to secrets and she finds keeping _any_ part of her life separate from her girlfriend difficult, if not impossible. There's always going to be that part of her that is tethered to the blonde. Even now, walking past the shops, she thinks about things like: whether Quinn would like this, and how she would look in _that…_

The constant tug a war in her mind reminds her, she's happy. Despite everything, Rachel Berry is happy and it has nothing to do with Broadway dreams. Lost in her thoughts, she nearly walks into the impatient Latina waiting for her at the end of the strip. _Oh dear, she did not look pleased…_Santana has her arms crossed and she is tapping her foot erratically against the ground.

"Ok first of all Berry, we not going for _flattering, _my mother's pearl necklaces are flattering. Bikinis on the other hand are supposed to be hot, jaw dropping or in vocabulary that only you would use: _sexually stimulating…_"

About to watch the Latina walk off again, Rachel grabs onto Santana's wrist. The taller girl looks down from her eyelashes with an irritated expression. _At least she's not yelling…_ The singer takes a nervous breath.

"What debt did Quinn owe you? What did you mean when you said call us even?"

There's silence and a slow expel of breath as Santana drops her shoulders a little. She appears tired, rubbing her forehead. Rachel has never seen the girl so serious. There seems to be a debate within the Latina as she looks around. Eyes soften and eyebrows furrow. Brittany watches the interaction with interest. She would love it if they could tell Rachy. The singer would understand, that somehow Quinn had always been her Prince Charming…even when neither of them cared very much for the other.

Santana shakes her head and walks off to the food court.

"Berry, we gots some crap to talk about"

Once there, she asks Brittany to got get all of them some drinks. Left alone Santana and Rachel take a seat in the nearest chairs. The singer clasps her hand and stares expectantly.

"Just tell me what you meant."

The Latina scoffs at the not so request. She fights her natural urge to snicker and be sarcastic. Her eyes analyze the jumpy singer.

"Don't pull any punches do you, Berry?"

"I find small talk to be distracting and often irrelevant. There's no point in speaking in double speak when you're not playing a game…or running for congress."

The last bit of the statement is added on after a second of thought. It brings a smile to both their lips: an icebreaker of sorts, not that they needed it. For a moment, things aren't as serious as both their minds make it out to be and they revel in it. They wonder that if the circumstances were changed could they have been friends? They had both grown up in Lima after all. However in the gap, Santana thinks of her trials with Brittany and Rachel thinks about finally getting to have Quinn, as the complicated grown up she is now. Sooner rather than later, they discard their previous thoughts because they would _never_ trade it. If given the chance to go back in time Rachel would put herself in front of every slushy waiting for the day where Quinn stopped sneering her. She'll stay as hazel eyes grow over the years to become _concerned and then…loving._

"Gots to respect that. How bout this? Show you mine if you show me yours."

Santana proposes. Rachel must have misinterpreted it because she wears a strange red-faced expression. The pause feels longer than it is and then the Latina cringes with realization.

"What? Oh! Ew! God! Rachel, that's freaking disgusting. You are definitely not my type. And people say that my mind is always in the gutter. What has Q done to you?"

Biology laws are thrown out the window because as it turns out Rachel face _can _get redder. Her hands begin to fidget. The smirking Latina finds out that she's nicer than she originally thought, because she _actually _puts the singer out of her misery

"I meant I'd answer your questions. If you answer mine."

"That seems agreeable"

Rachel manages to choke out. The other girl rolls her eyes amusedly.

"Of course it does. Now speak. What the hell is crawling up your ass? You've been looking like a mix between constipated and happy or morning."

The next words are barely audible. Santana has to lean close to catch it and even then it's hard to discern. She wonders if anybody else knew that Rachel could speak so quietly. A thought dawn on her. She realizes that the situation must be big, _must_ be scary. The Latina almost doesn't wan to deal with it but Quinn Fabray was her childhood best friend. So there wasn't even the illusion of choice. She forces herself to listen and attend to Rachel Berry.

"I got in…"

Confusion swirls in the Santana's eyes.

"Got in? Got into what? …Trouble? …Mr Schue's limitless supply of vests? Quinn's panty drawers?"

Rachel stills. Her eyes grow duller and she produces a pristinely opened envelope. Santana hesitantly takes it. The words on the page cause her eyes to go wide.

_Dear Rachel Barbra Berry,_

_I am pleased to inform you that you have been offered a place in Julliard's early admission program for the coming year, 2012. Please respond within 14 days upon receiving this offer, or your position will be allocated to the next recipient…_

The letter goes on for much longer but those are the only two lines that matter. Rachel makes sure to catalogue every single one of Santana's reactions, hoping that it would give a clue as to what to expect from Quinn. To her surprise, a genuine smile appears on the Latina's face as she looks up. And on the off chance that one is lucky enough to garner such a response from Santana you'd notice that she didn't smile brilliantly or winsomely. No, instead her sincerity is transferred in that crooked quirking of the lips against slivers of a white background.

"Congrats Berry, this is great. Isn't this what you always wanted?"

A sad smile appears on the diva's face. She places the letter back into her bag, whispering her confession.

"It_ was_…"

Santana snaps up. She'll concede that she's been jealous of Rachel and has made fun of her looks. But never, not once, did she believe that the short brunette wasn't meant for that Broadway stage. Rachel Berry was supposed to go to the performing arts school, debut in a wildly popular musical and achieve some kind of acclaim. It was just the truth. So to suddenly hear that it wasn't the dream anymore was off-putting. However, Santana is strong minded enough not to let her mind run off with the possibilities.

"What do you mean?"

When Rachel looks up, distress mars her defined features. Her voice is a bit too thick to be normal. Santana feels as if she's finally getting to know the girl and not just the talent. It was illuminating because she used to think that Rachel was lucky to have someone like Quinn, smart, pretty and athletic. Now she sees that they insanely fortunate to have _each other. _One has trouble expressing herself, the other can do so enough for the both of them.

"Quinn hasn't gotten any responses yet. The deadline for me accepting this is the end of next week."

The response causes Santana to sigh. She wonders if the dictionary should redefine the word 'problem' for her two friends. Oxford should change the meaning to _an event that occurs when two people love too much_, because Rachel couldn't stand leaving the blonde. And Quinn wouldn't be able to live with herself if she kept the brunette away from greatness. Through these conflicting worries, they would never be able to agree on a solution. Santana knows that if her ridiculously self-destructive friend found out, the choice would be out of the singer's hands. Quinn would mail the shorter girl's acceptance response, herself. And she'd torture herself for the rest of the year until she too came home to an offer from NYU medical school.

So the Latina gives Rachel credit for considering her girlfriend's feelings so much. With no abilities to fast forward time, Santana tries to explain something.

"Berry, most colleges don't give early entry for courses like medicine. Q will find out same time as everyone else. Have some faith in her, she's good enough to get through."

Somewhere along the line, Santana has subtly changed her language, removing the broken words and shortened meanings. It is possible that it's due to the seriousness of the situation. However as much as she'll deny it… it probably has more to do with reassuring the singer. Because, when the Latina uses flawless language, everything sounds softer and less is lost in communication. It becomes obvious that honestly she cares.

"I do understand, but NYU is so competitive and …I don't want to make any mistakes with this."

The words are said emphatically, the emotion palpable. Santana's mind travels back into drama class in freshman year. Quinn and herself had been repeatedly scolded and told to _put more feeling in it. _Needless to say Rachel and Brittany received high grades. The Latina didn't improve in the timeframe given and as a result barely passed. It had hardly been her fault that Romeo and Juliet, was so overdone and that as a result she was bored to tears. Quinn had been in the same boat… _at the start. _But young Rachel Berry in her infinite wisdom or stupidity had deigned to come over and give pointers and her two cents. In the next act, Quinn Fabray dominated the scene fiery eyes and angry snarl. Fortunately, her role required such fury, however omnidirectional it was.

Santana thinks that Rachel and Quinn's romance is a fairytale only because it contains _so few_ of those classic elements. The girls didn't start of as the best of friends or oblivious strangers that _suddenly_ discovered their affections. No, they were simply two individuals with overlapped experiences, through past boyfriends, a love for performing and the pressures of a small town. And through those tenuous connections, they unwittingly built tolerance, trust and then love.

A chair screeches a few meters away and Santana snaps out of her thoughts. She tries to remove some tension by stretching her muscles. And afterwards, the focus in her expression returns.

"I can't tell you what to do. But Quinn, she is good at the comforting and the solving of problems... well until she goes off into the deep end _herself._ Just trust that she'll help keep you guys together."

Lost in her thoughts, Rachel tries to nod. Her mind is racing and whilst this session had been enlightening, she still didn't know what to do. She's brought back to the present by Santana's cautious speech. _It feels important…_

"Look …what your girlfriend owes me… Do you remember the first time she slushied you?"

The singer nods again. The Latina wears a relieved and sad sort of smile. Quinn might kill her for explaining but it was for both their goods. Sometimes heroics and pain didn't belong in the closet. There's a line between being humble and devaluating oneself. People thought a lot of things about the unholy trio and you'd find that nearly all their notions are wrong. Brittany is intelligent. She knows that some of her comments hurt people but she trusted Quinn and Santana to tell her how to act. Likewise, the Latina's bully ratio had always been four males to one female, four seniors to one freshman; she spared as many of the defenseless as she could. Whereas Quinn? The pianist didn't really know how to play the bad guy. She could only _pretend_. And this is what Santana wants Rachel to know.

"Rachel, with you, it was the first time Q slushied anyone really…And she couldn't handle it, spending days in her room. I think at one point she even started to hate herself."

Pause, and another fortifying breath is taken. Santana continues.

"Don't get me wrong, she really didn't like you back then. I used to tease her about being obsessed with you but – "

Rachel scoffs in disbelief. She seriously doubted she'd caught Quinn's attention that much, _even back then._

"Never mind, just _look_, Q will slushie anyone and she won't feel good about herself. But with you? For some reason it was more than she bargained for…I don't know if I'll ever explain this properly."

Santana rubs her face aggressively. From the increasingly confused and blank look on the singer's face, it was clear that the message wasn't getting translated across. And _this, _was why Santana didn't do talks. Points didn't got lost and context is easily misconstrued. They barely have the time to dwell when Brittany voice comes from the side of the table. She wears one of those rare serious looks and she hands each of them their ice cream cone.

"Quinn asked San to help… she asked for a favor."

"What?"

Rachel has wide confused eyes. Brittany and Santana share a look. They pray that Quinn forgives them for introducing Rachel to the hidden parts of their pasts that they were still ashamed about. The Latina speaks slowly as if she was speaking to a child. It wasn't anything personal, just that the reasoning behind the trio was a bit convoluted and hard to understand. She took a deep breath.

"Q asked me to take over when it came to you. She asked me to do the crap that she wouldn't or couldn't do to you. After all, she was the HBIC, meaning no exceptions, no weakness… _Remember?_"

There's a sense of pleading bleeding into Santana's tone. It is as if she was begging the diva to see the context. It was far too easy to judge their actions when they were mean and celebrate them when they were brave. She didn't want Rachel to turn this into something it wasn't, letting it harm the present.

"You might not have noticed but _slushies_ were about the worst you ever got."

The measured statement caught Rachel's attention. There wasn't any doubt; the information was causing her turmoil. Rachel likes to think that she understands Quinn. And to most extents she _does. Not this time though. _It didn't make sense. At least before, she had the comfort that her girlfriend had cared enough to be the one to bully and attack her. But to hear, that their pasts were indirect and only served through mediator makes her angry. Brittany sits next to Rachel. She has a firm look as she takes the singer's hand and squeezes.

"Rachy, Quinn was your white knight like in the stories. She couldn't be mean to you but she couldn't do nothing either… because she was the head cheerio. If Quinn didn't ask San to do that, people, bad, _scarier _people would have gotten to you. They would ask why you were so special. And then you would get picked on like Kurt is, for being a unicorn."

Rachel tilts her head. She doesn't quite comprehend the meaning of the dancer's strangely strung words but inexplicably some of the bad feelings go away. Maybe it was the simple and kind tone. Or maybe it was the fact that after the initial surprise, Rachel really can forgive the blonde for anything. Santana stares at the singer. She wonders how much clearer she can make it.

"Berry, here's the thing, bullying you to a certain extent, protected you from some of the worse things that would have happened. Karofsky and Azimio never touched you because you were Q's domain… I think that was her way of repenting or saying sorry."

There's a break as the singer tries to digest the information. Santana's explanation hits her like a truck and she's just a little dazed. As the new piece of information colours her memories in a new light, Rachel actually loves the blonde a little more than before. It isn't possible but it feels as if there's no limit on her capacity to feel for her girlfriend. _Her protector. _Rachel had given the blonde that title since last year Nationals, and _now_ she realizes that it _always_ had been true. Suddenly, the brunette is a little more secure because she knows that their attachment is the same. Neither more deeper than the other, it really is _joint_ control. The fact that Quinn has relinquished her need for power is profound.

"She's soft like Lord Tubbington's tummy. Please don't hurt Quinn, Rachy."

Brittany tugs on the singer's hand. Rachel smiles gently as she is about to answer. But her comment is interrupted by the Latina. Back is her gruff exterior as Santana leans forward over the table. There's a threatening glint in her eye and Rachel remembers why people steered clear of the girl in hallways. Recently, Rachel has barely had to face the scary side of Santana. Sometimes she forgets that the Latina different person to her non-friends.

"What Britt Britt means is that if I ever have to deal with a crying Q at my door, I will personally find a way to make your adult life far worse than your high school one. I don't care if you end up more famous than Barbra Streisand herself."

Brittany frowns at the wording, rubbing the diva's back comfortingly as if to say _don't worry she doesn't mean it. _However that is not true. From the way certain muscles tense and Santana's lips thin, she's deadly serious.

"We good?"

Rhetorical question, of course, but it doesn't stop Rachel from answering with a nod. With that, the Latina jumps up and heads back into the crowds. The other girls jump up to follow. The Latina's voice can be heard getting more and more distant.

"Great now we best be backs to the shopping. Britts and I gots to get our tan on tomorrow."

The fractured language and grammar returns to Santana's speech. It is like a switch and Rachel waves goodbye to the temporary window she had to Santana's personality. Beneath her breath, the singer whispers in an amused tone.

"Satan has a heart."

The statement is light. The only sign that anybody hears it is Brittany's innocent giggle and Santana's twitching eyebrow.

"Keep that to yourself, Berry."

Rachel shakes her head.

"No one would believe me anyway."

Santana snickers. Going through the merchandise on the shelving rack. She honestly has no issue with being perceived as the big bad wolf as long as the people that matter realize that she's more than the expressions she likes to wear and the insults that she tends to shoot.

"They wouldn't…Now go try this one."

The Latina is holding up a small blue bikini. And Rachel narrows her eyes.

"No! Are you kidding me Santana. That is a piece of string and two eye patches at best. It'll cover nothing!"

"That's kind of the point."

The indignation is responded to with a familiar bored eye roll. Santana takes a step towards the brunette towering over her. Brittany seems blissfully ignorant ahead as she talks animatedly with the sale-person. With no incoming assistance from the tall dancer, Rachel crosses her arms, adopting her most stubborn expression. The fact that her jaw muscles tighten, signals to the incoming tirade and the Latina changes her stance in advance, trying to keep the smirk of her face.

"Santana, no. The American Cancer Society expressly states that one should take proper care of skin to avoid cancer and sun burns. That means covering up more that just 2 % of your body."

Not even leaving a gap for response, the Latina thrusts the swimsuit into the shorter girl's hands, shoving her into the nearest changing cubicle. Her rebuttal comes swiftly.

"The ACS also sells sunscreen, now go."

And so disagreements and grunts fly back and forth throughout the afternoon, spanning six stores and countless try on opportunities. As an oddball group they garner entertained looks from passerbys and salespeople. The shopping spree is lead by a whimsical blonde that innately manages to charm the prices down with a youthful grin. Trapped in the middle is a small brunette, who looks a mix between embarrassed, tortured and actually having fun. This girl refuses to participate in most of the proffered choices and ends up being carried bridal style into the changing room. As far as other shoppers hear, she threatens to tell on the other two girls to someone named Quinn. Their light chuckles complement the background music perfectly. Last in line is a Latina. This girl had a bag from the very first store, knowing exactly what she wanted. However that doesn't stop her from '_helping_' as she browses riskier choices with an evil glint.

/

Two days later, the date for the party comes around. Quinn is busy trying to set up the last minute items in her house. Alcohol in the fridge? Check. Sound system on? Check. Breakables out of the way? Check. Her shoulders carry a thin layer of sweat under the hot sun, a veritable byproduct of her shifting the furniture into a safer position. As she recalled, the alcohol imbued tended to have trouble walking straight, let alone navigating _around_ obstacles. And whilst her mother had been accommodating with regards to leasing their home out, the pianist had no desire to approach the wrath that would be unleashed should there be any damage to the expensive cushiony antiques.

Throughout the mindless tasks, she thinks of Rachel Berry. Her mind pours over every small detail from the dark brown hair to the confident stride. It brings an unmovable smile on her face. She chuckles to herself about the results of the impromptu shopping spree. The three girls had come back with some sort of pact to keep the whole ordeal silent. Santana wore a victorious smirk. Brittany was effortlessly entertained. And Rachel had sown her lips shut as she was overtaken over by a deep blush and irritated stuttering. Nevertheless, the singer thankfully returned with a happier countenance than before. And whilst Quinn _is _curious, she understands the notion that some things had to be solved alone, at least during the beginning.

For her, Rachel Berry is undoubtedly the cure for most of her issues. All the brunette had to do was come along and _be herself_. Whether it was the enthusiastic discussions of theatre performers that the blonde had no interest in, or the empathy emitted from chocolate eyes, Quinn is given the strength to push back when defensive habits crawl back to the forefront. So you could call her whipped, a sap or a hopeless romantic and yes, Santana had used them all, but the pianist only smiles…because in those moments, her life is simple and strangely in place. Her world only has one rule. Love Rachel Berry.

Knock! Knock! Knock!

Quinn goes to the door. She has a lightness in her step and bright eyes as if she knows something that nobody else does. The wooden door is pulled open and the two occupants of the doorjamb are rooted where they are. Pretty soon a head of dark brown hair flies into her face as her arms encircle a familiar weight. Their eyes whisper similar sentiments of; _I missed you and… god I really missed you. _Rachel leans in for a kiss. In her eagerness she's slightly off course and lands on Quinn's nose. Light musical laughter follows, as they slowly break apart. The blonde steps forward. She places a lingering kiss on the back of the singer's hand. As she lets go, chocolate eyes darken with silent commands that are later punctuated by a tight grip on her shirt collar. There's a frightening desire to obey and submit. And she _does, _leaning forward and pressing lightly on Rachel's lips. Her tongue traces the seam, begging for permission. Once given, they communicate with playful caresses and frustrated flicks.

/

Rachel organizes the top shelf of her girlfriend's pantry, alphabetically at first and then by nutritional value. She wears a classic white apron with smudges of flour and sauce from the pizza that was now cooking in the oven. Without looking, her hands know where every spice is, telltale signs of a history in this home. Pots aren't dropped and cutlery doesn't grind together, she's seamless ….Quinn crosses her arms leaning against the sofa. She has a wistful smile as her mind screams at her to capture the domestic looking scene. Though it really doesn't matter, an image won't do it justice. Her perception is slightly heightened. She notices the way the sunlight creates highlights in Rachel's hair and the small shadows, which enhance all the singer's small expressions. Quinn gets to experience the temporary perfection that few find, that peace that comes from an innate understanding that she's found the right person. She's never going to be truly alone in this life. She gets to have Rachel in her memories, Rachel to feel and touch in the present and Rachel to plan a life with in the future. The pianist is in a good place. So quietly and with very little trepidation, she whispers the question.

"Do I need to be worried?"

The singer's brown eyes snaps to the ex-cheerleader's soft hazel ones. The kitchen is silent and Rachel's breathing becomes slightly more erratic. She looks serious as she fiddles with the dishrag. Quite a many responses run through her head but she feels a blatant desire to be honest, as if lying would hurt both of them. Breathe.

"…I honestly don't know. But –"

"– you're not ready to talk about it."

Quinn finishes the sentence with a sad smile. People say that it is sad when people don't understand; the blonde thinks that life is at its most depressing point when you do. Because then, a person truly _has _no other choice but to sit by and wait for the ordeal to be over, meanwhile watching the breakdown of somebody they cared about. Rachel's eyes flicker worriedly and before either of them knows it Quinn has made her way to the kitchen bench. With one foot planted and the other's delicate tip lightly touching the floor, her stance is reminiscent of the one she had adopted in the auditorium all those months ago. Except this time she has her hand placed on Rachel's and not on a piano top. She's able to calm those worried movements. Tilting her head, she tries to catch the singer's eye.

"It's ok. You need time to think. Believe me out of all the people in the world I get it."

Rachel feels a light squeeze of her hand causing her to automatically look down. She marvels at just how well they fit. She's not being swallowed, encompassed or smothered, only held.

"Thank you, Quinn"

It amazes Rachel how the blonde shrugs, refusing to take any merit. She must think that it's nothing and that alone makes the notion sweeter. The backs of her fingers graze the diva's cheeks. Rachel tries not to gasp at the sensations though she fails when she sees the force of Quinn's feelings reflected in her eyes. The pianist knows that she must be an open book, staring out of the window. Her voice is calm and raspy.

"Just tell me when you can't handle it by yourself anymore."

Rachel feels her eyes moisten and bites on her bottom lip. She leans into Quinn's body, feeling every shudder. However most important is the slight tremble in the blonde's hand as she brushes her fingers through the diva's hair. The shallower breathing tells the singer that the pianist isn't as sure as she's pretending to be. Burying herself deeper into her girlfriend Rachel speaks into Quinn's neck.

"I don't want you to ever have to worry or feel insecure around me..."

A silence descends and Rachel leans back within the taller girl's arms. She tries to discern _something _from the stoically strong expression. Until finally a breath is let out, shoulders and guards are dropped, thrown away. Quinn laughs. It is a beautiful sound, light and unaffected. It also must be some kind of release because she's able to shake away the lingering thoughts in her mind. Composing herself, the blonde looks into chocolate eyes. Words roll off her tongue so naturally and she swears that she's never been so articulate. She never thought that sharing her feelings could bring happiness…but _it does. _And she speaks, as much as she's ready to reveal.

"I'll always be just a little insecure around you Rachel. You make me vulnerable, because I desperately care about you and what you think of me. But, at the same time I trust _you_ to keep me safe…"

Rachel's mind staggers. Guilt slowly seeps in, as she still hasn't come to a conclusion about what to do about Julliard. She wants to say that she's brave, courageous and self-sacrificing. But deep down, she's sure that that isn't true. The brunette has troubles telling Quinn because, however small, there's a chance that the news might pull them apart. She'd rather keep them in limbo where love is warm and seemingly forever. With a defeated frame she scoffs at herself. _So much for the brave..._

Quinn, on the other hand, dislikes self-doubt. She thinks it's a debilitating emotion that eats away until there's nothing _good _left. But most of all she hates seeing it on Rachel Berry because it really doesn't belong, distracting from the singer's innate talent and beauty. Leaning forward she'll bring the diva in close, lean down and say in a soothing voice.

"Hey… you're not doing anything wrong. Just take your time."

She wonders if her words might be her own undoing.

/

"Brittany go take Rachel to the bathroom. Gets Berry into that dark blue bikini."

Santana shouts over music and the excited conversations. Not long after Quinn and Rachel spoke the rest of glee club had begun showing up on the doorstep. At the sound of the very first doorbell, the girls had glanced over with trepidation, not necessarily with any real fear, but only because neither loved going to parties. The brunette had never been on the invite list of most social get-togethers. The two times that she had been, all she remembers is getting drunk and forgetting most of the evening. Rachel swears to herself that she will get to the bottom of whatever happened in Quinn's bedroom all those months ago. She would find out why Quinn had a design of a donut and a star interlocked on her wall. The blonde, in comparison, had _always_ been on the invite list. She hated the people; the noise and the complete mindlessness that happened, feeling disjointed and out of place. There was an obligation to attend, but all too often, it had led to questions about the cost of popularity and her lack of courage at the time.

Thankfully, they didn't have much time to dwell. Brittany had been on the other side of the door, with sunshine and smiles. She hugged the sadness out of the girls, lifting them both slightly off the ground. Rachel enjoyed it, instantly reeling off all the festivities of the day to her oft partner in crime against Santana. On the other hand, Quinn wore a light scowl, being reminded of the fact that the dancer was taller than them all. A childish point to be sure, but the smirking Latina leaning in the doorjamb, really didn't make the situation easier. And so it went, Artie, Kelsey, Mike and the others eventually showing up.

They all stay in huddled groups around the large rectangular pool. Finn is cooking the meats and vegetables on the grill. Kelsey is laughing at the black smudge across his cheek and the pieces of ash in his hair. Each time she leans over to pick them out, she gets a little close to recklessness. She thinks that eventually she'll overcompensate her balance and accidentally land on his lips for a kiss. Maybe then, they could ride into the Lima sunset, because his smiles, as dorky as they are, made her day just a little more fun. Similarly, Tina and Mike linger by the fountain, waiting for the next moment where they can trick each other into walking through the spray of water. The atmosphere is friendly and relaxed, as Quinn lies back into her chair. The blonde pauses after watching Brittany tug a reluctant Rachel away.

"Is she ok?"

The pianist asks. Somehow she knows that the Latina knows what's going on with Rachel. As hard as it was to get to that position, once Santana actually started to _care _about you, she's a wonderful friend. Quinn remembers flowing conversations about kept secrets and shared doubts, even if back then it had been about boys and cooties. She suspects that Rachel has discovered that same quality about the Latina. And as a result, Quinn is also _reassured, _because at least then, the brunette wasn't so alone in her problems.

A grimace appears on Santana's face. For a moment she wonders if she should lie like she's so used to doing. However her friend's worried concern causes her to reconsider. She thinks that Quinn would have seen through it anyway. An aggravated sigh leaves her lips.

"Berry is…_Berry."_

It's the only thought that seems to work. And if the moment wasn't so serious, Santana may have snickered at the complete lack of intelligence in her statement. She runs a frustrated hand through her hair. The Latina's stunned because, never in her childhood did she ever expect to feel a sense of loyalty to Rachel freaking Berry. She feels the need to keep the singer's confidence and to give her a chance to fix this. For some strange reason, the Latina actually respects the diva enough to let her choose for herself. So she makes the decision to trust Rachel with her best friend.

"Look Q, she loves you. That's it; I mean _literally I ain't kidding. _She loves you like Coach Sylvester loves her tracksuits. Everything else she's dealing with now… is just an adjunct to that… She'll figure it out."

Quinn fights the urge to smile, wondering if the statement could be any more vague. She's amused because she had always figured that Rachel would get under _all_ their skins. It warms her heart to think that the singer had found a friend in Santana. At this point, she had no desire to keep their worlds apart. She wanted a piece of the brunette in every important aspect of her existence, friends, family and future. Quinn wants that, even at the possibility that her friends may not always stand in her corner anymore. They might even choose to help Rachel on the end.

"Adjunct huh? I thought you hated using vocabulary."

Quinn replies with a grin and teasing eyes. Santana's discomfort becomes a little more obvious.

"Shut up."

The heated response is accompanied by a minute smirk and the small shake of the head. Santana slides her sunglasses over her eyes nonchalantly.

"Your girlfriend is a horrible influence."

In sync they seem to lower themselves graceful and confident on the veranda chairs. Quinn takes a sip out of her drink as she looks around. She won't even deny that she's is already missing the brunette. And maybe, she's just a little curious about Rachel's possible state of dress. Her relaxed words rasp out.

"Didn't we always say that that was the best kind?"

Santana doesn't say anything, simply falling back to a default smirk. She wonders just how much of her friend was hiding behind those tinted sunglass lenses. However, she doesn't get the time to come up with an appropriate taunt because the whole surrounding has suddenly become silent. There might be a few gasps from Mercedes and Tina. Some of the boy's breathing might become harsher despite the presence of their girlfriends. In a slow procession, Brittany is first, she walks out in a strapless red and white striped bathing suit. Her sleek frame on clear display and powerful thin muscles flex and twist with every movement. Santana automatically stands up to go to the dancer. But before she does, she stops and leans down to Quinn, whispering.

"Don't say I never did you any favors, Q."

The blonde is about to reply with a witty comment but her mouth fall open. The words that had been poised in her mind freeze. Her eyes fall to the figure that had only previously been hidden by Brittany's height. _Rachel. _A low moan slips from Quinn's lips. Suddenly the pianist is actually actively pushing her thoughts away just so she can dedicate more of her senses, her brain cells, her memory to the picture before her. The brunette slips out slowly. She has rapidly reddening cheeks, deciding quickly that she doesn't like the excessive attention. Her shoulders hunched slightly, an adorable display of her shyness and embarrassment. The motion unknowingly makes the swell of her breasts obvious against dark blue straps of her bikini top. Her eyes search around for the one person that she cares about, hoping that a certain musician would have a similar reaction as the boys. Look left. Look right. Eventually chocolate eyes would find dark tinted sunglasses and light blonde hair. Quinn has white hands gripping the armrests of her lounge chair and heavy breathing seen by the rise and fall of her chest. For a second, they take in the sight of each other. The softball player finishes her exploration of her girlfriend's midriff and long tan legs.

As the minutes pass, she tells herself that maybe she should get up and walk towards Rachel. Quinn thinks that she would love to do that, to embrace the singer and whisper well deserved compliments and devotions, if only her body would obey. It doesn't. Her muscles have long since turned in jelly. Rachel tilts her head. Her desire to be near Quinn takes her to the shaded area. Torturously slow, she leans down so that she's eyelevel to the stationary blonde. Two small hands move forward to lift the sunglasses of a perfectly carved pale nose. She releases her breath at the welcome sight; dark hazel eyes, shining with love, appreciation and the undertones of something a little more mature. It communicates thoughts that would steal anyone into a bedroom until the sun rises the next day. Rachel cracks a smile. Quinn releases a slightly bigger grin. A silent competition goes on their minds and the brunette lowers herself into the blonde's lap.

_Quinn's quirk of the lips gets impossibly larger and Rachel thinks to herself…that this doesn't feel like losing._

/

"Let play truth or dare."

Artie shouts out as everyone settles around comfortably on the floor. The sun had started to go down and to flee from the bugs and cold the crew found their way inside. The couples sat close, giggling and whispering under shared towels. However with Lauren and Puck it seemed more like the wrestler had the warm soft material and the footballer was left with his arms wrapped around himself. It was a hilarious site. Blaine it seemed, in his kind nature attempted to talk to the commanding girl, only to finally understand the reason why Kurt told scary stories and Puck looked like a kicked puppy. She was fierce!

"Ten minutes in heaven."

The words leave Mercedes' mouth. The words seem to spark a switch Puck as his face light up. Finally something he could get on board with. However looking around, he realizes that most looked displeased with the idea. The boy thinks a toned down version of the game might be more acceptable. Economically, he would still be able to lip lock with all the girls. Even if they didn't use his special _weighted_ bottle, the delinquent thinks that he could make it work.

"Lets play spin the bottle."

There's a silence and abruptly Quinn begins to chuckle. Rachel turns around in the blonde's arms to look over concernedly. But the pianist shakes her head slightly as if to say not to worry. Her eyes hold a mirthful glint as she directs the singer's sight to Santana. The Latina by now has livened up, a disgruntled storm brewing in her expression. She directs her statement to each of the people who had volunteered an idea. Rachel finds it hard to ignore the slight cower in Santana's audience.

"Ok. No. No and no. First of all, none of your lips gets anywhere near Britts and I. Second of all, with Berry, Asian duo and wheelchair boy here, it just sucks the fun outta making dares."

Her blunt statement seems to bounce of high ceiling and majestic walls. Brittany hugs her girl closer trying to rid the Latina of her negativity. She thinks that if she gives the girl enough kisses she can make the annoyances fade away. And she is right, for the most part. Kurt sighs, thinking that they were getting nowhere.

"Alright then, Santana what do you propose?"

The Latina glares. She didn't want to play any games. It had taken her awhile but she finally understood herself. Getting drunk, going to parties and sleeping with a dozen faceless guys, it had been her way of denying her feelings for Brittany. She had wanted to keep up with the tall dancer, to _always be beside _her in every way; not knowing that Brittany was doing the same things for virtually the same reason. Because back then, even if they weren't with each other they were united in their actions. However now that Santana _has_ Brittany in her grasp, she has no desire to engage in any reminder of their pasts, not when the future was better, _brighter. _

Sam clears his throat. In a cautious voice he puts forward his thoughts.

"I'm thinking we should play a game of truth, might as well get a few secrets off our chests. I mean Mr Schue did say we should bond more."

"We would be ok with that."

Mike responds after casting a questioning gaze to Tina. They smile in unison and lean into each other some more. Artie smiles. He thinks that, as much pain as his breakup with the Asian girl had caused him at the time the dedication in their eyes now was unmistakable. He's glad that he wasn't given the choice whether or not to step aside.

"Sounds like a plan."

"I'm up for anything. And I do mean _anything_, girls."

Puck smiles lecherously and wriggles his brows. His trademark confidence is in place. Quinn, Rachel and Santana can't help but laugh when Lauren has him by the Mohawk, begging for forgiveness. There's a softness in the tech expert's eyes that tells everyone that she was never really mad in the first place. Still, the footballer dutifully apologizes for his statements.

By then, nearly everyone had given his or her assent. Blaine managed to convince Kurt after promising that if the questions got to personal, he would volunteer to answer two questions instead. The fashionable private school boy would bite the bullet. Quinn thinks it's sweet, because if push came to shove she would do the same. It is just that Blaine had no idea what he was putting himself in for. The questions wouldn't be easy, but maybe that was the point, to actually learn something about each other. Maybe they would learn something real; a passing thought that would still be true when cities and oceans separate them.

Santana is wary. She shares a look with Quinn. Somehow they both know that it is them that have the most to lose. Being who they were, secretive and indifferent, there were a host of questions that could be asked, all of them painful. However for what it was worth Brittany and Rachel understands. The dancer leans forward and whispers in the Latina's ear.

"San, let's just play. We are a family. Nobody is going to be mean. I'm all yours after, I promise."

Santana nods quietly, giving her agreement. She finds that when Brittany tells her something she'll always believe. And if Brittany asks for something, it will be in the dancer's hands before she can blink. Brittany asked her to join this game. That was it for Santana; she's all in.

Rachel and Quinn are only ones left. To outsiders all they would see were two girls gazing intently at each other. The brunette would lift the hand that had been wrapped around her waist and place a slow kiss to it. The blonde would shudder. Together they lean forward and people in close vicinity might hear the words _are you all right with this._ The taller girl would smile softly. She looks determined as she squares her shoulders nodding.

Rachel turns and gives their agreement. Her mind wonders and she thinks about all the things that Quinn would rather people not know. Yet, the blonde was _still_ wrapped around her, intent on pushing her limits_._ Rachel tightens her grip on pale hands. She promises herself that she'll always be there when Quinn weakens, loses it and breaks down. In those moments, she'll grasp her girlfriend and adopt a fighting stance and they would find a way to be strong, together.

Yes, it sounds wonderful. It sounds_ real. _And she finds that she can't wait.

"I guess, I'll start, Mercedes I noticed that you've gotten a lot better at your dancing. How did that come about? Last time we talked you were unhappy with the amount of activity involved."

Mike asks kindly. Mercedes blushes. She's not her usual bombastic self as her eyes cast down to the floor. Over the past few weeks she's learned from various perspectives that perhaps she hasn't been the easiest person to deal with. She has realized that in her strong beliefs in her own talent she's begun to shirk off her responsibility to the team, automatically assuming that someone would pick up the slack.

"I – I got some advice from a person that I really respect. I didn't think much of your complaints because I thought you were all just jealous. But last week, my parents told me that they were worried about my attitude. And I knew that I had changed. I liked whom I used to be and I am going to try and get her back."

A series of small nods and encouraging smiles litter the room. Even Santana finds that she doesn't completely hate the way Mercedes had owned up to her shortfalls. It starts off small but the group feels certain newness to their interactions, as if talking like this was entirely new to them. And in many ways it was, words weren't carefully phrased and twisted. They were simply getting to know their friends on a deeper level. They let the emotion in each other's eyes pull them in.

"Ok I would like to ask Tina, out of all the fashion cliques, why choose Goth? I mean you're one of the friendliest and optimistic people I know."

Tina lifts her head to Mercedes question. Her face contorts into thought. Her stutter was fake but she thinks that she may still have trouble articulating her response without it sounding strange. She'll admit that perhaps her reasons had something to do with security rather than any practical fashion use. She releases a small breath and looks up.

"Do any of you have something that you hold onto because you've had it for so long? I don't wear black because of the message it sends or the type of attention it gets. It's just that when wearing it I feel like I can be myself you know? Like how Artie wears glasses so he can see, these clothes help me be _me."_

The answer is strange. It isn't what any of them expects but it is because of that fact that the as group of performers ends up being a little closer to each other. Mike has a kind smile and he places an Asian kiss on his girlfriend. The pride reflecting in his eyes was heartwarming. The couple share a moment of reassuring touches and loving glances. Eventually Finn clears his throat.

"I know I'm probably out of order, but I like to ask Sam a question."

Sam raises his head in surprise. He nods openly to Finn, not minding at all. The blonde boy thinks that he really wants to get to know these eleven other people better. His father told him that he could only count on one hand the amount of people that stood by their family when he had lost his job. The man had hoped for far more for his son. Sam wants to prove him right. However looking around and seeing the laughter and acceptance in everybody's eyes, Sam finds that he already has friends with permanence, care and commonalities. Quinn would always understand about the pressures of church and Kurt is a silent support. Santana is unpredictable. However he figures if push comes to shove she'll always choose save him from any real embarrassment, she'll direct her best vicious words towards his bullies instead. Similarly Brittany will always be there, her innocence guiding him to a happier daydream. He has the group of people that he wants and needs. So Sam is open to any questions, _just keep them coming._

"I know you had to go through a lot. Some of us probably didn't help by thinking you and Quinn were cheating. But do you ever get annoyed that you had to miss out on being young to help take care of money?"

Some shifts occur, as several people lean forward. They worry about the answer. Sam thinks that it's nice but unnecessary, ready to explain why.

"Yeah. I do. I mean I'm not going to lie. It's fun being a teenager you know? The important things are so different. You're only responsible for yourself and the impact you create. However ask me any time, did I miss out? The answer is no. I didn't miss out, because I still get to have times like these, just hanging out with my friends."

The boy finishes with a boyish grin. He hears a series of _awwws and other strange encouragements. _Here, he's found his extended family.

"Mike, how are the college choices going? I know that you had a hard decision to make…"

Sam asks. Tina turns her head towards her boyfriend. She settles into the embrace a little more becoming a rock. Mike has never been more thankful. It's one of the few times that his levelheaded composure fails him, as fire ignites in his eyes. There's anger coiled into his stance and it is only ever directed inward. The boy is frustrated that it's so hard for him to break away from his parent's views. Was he really that malleable? People were _meant to have a backbone_. Maybe he didn't…

"I still… don't know. Tina told me to apply to both, that way my options are open. She's right and I'm always going to consider what she has to say. The future isn't fixed, you know? I think that in the end I'll do what's best for me…_no, I'll do what's best for us."_

Mike repeats himself whilst staring into Tina's eyes. The Asian girl smiles shyly, shaking her head at the words. She brings him into a close hug and whispers thanks into his ears. Rachel leans her head back into Quinn's shoulders releasing a soft sigh. The pianist arms squeezes in acknowledgement, comprehending the singer's thoughts. They know that it might take a while but given the time, a few weeks or a few months they want to get to the quiet synchronicity that exists in the other couple. Tina and Mike were going to get married, that was for certain.

In her own case, Rachel hopes that fears won't get the best of her. She hopes that by the end of the day she's tell Quinn the news about Julliard and will consider the blonde's response. The diva knows that the right thing to do is to disclose and share. And she's sure she's said it before but the _right thing? _It always seemed so hard… with so much to lose.

_What if Quinn doesn't understand? Or even worse, what if she does? Is it something that they can weather?_

Blaine's smooth voice interrupts her thoughts. The Dalton boy wore a curious gaze as he leans forward on the sofa. His words are directed to a surprised Puck.

"I've got one. Puck, if Lauren asked you to get rid of the Mohawk, would you?"

The question causes a few people to chuckle and the footballer to bares his teeth. However Blaine is not afraid, choosing to be more amused by the telltale signs of blushing shown in Puck's neck. Since Blaine and Kurt had gotten together, the pop medley singer spent his time integrating with members of McKinley's High's glee club. And whilst he tries to talk to everyone, Puck is particularly difficult. As a result Blaine chooses something simple, and learns that there is a lot more meaning to the footballer's response than what he initially expected. The private school boy thinks that there must be a reason behind everyone's knowing smiles and the fact that Puck actually looks _shy _as he growls his answer under his breath.

"Yes."

Artie and Finn makes whipped sounds in jest, receiving shoves in return. Lauren places a hand on her boy's forearms and roughly pulls him back next to her. Puck's eyes widen and suddenly he doesn't mind his friend's comments anymore. Bringing him back to her side is the most telling, most girly and most emotional thing that the wrestler has ever done for him. He becomes sure about where he stands despite her stony face. He just stares at her for a while with the same amazement that he had shown when she hauled him out of the porter potty. And whilst she hates people attending so intently, she doesn't do anything simply typing away a little more furiously at her laptop.

Artie coughs happily, getting everyone's notice. He takes some time to move his glasses higher on the bridge of his nose as if to build up the suspense to his question. Some people wait with bated breath and other's roll their eyes. The boy will be an impressive director someday, _but certainly not yet. _

"Lauren, were you responsible for the school computer blackout of '09?"

To her credit, Lauren gives no cues. She simply eyeballs the bespectacled boy and tilts her head curiously. Artie shifts uncomfortably under the scrutiny, wondering if his curiosity was wise. After a moment, Lauren turns away, no longer interested by the interaction. She has a confident knowing gleam in her eyes as she chews her gum with gusto.

"I don't know. But if I were the culprit, I would just like to say that Figgins had it coming. Who in the world takes funding away from the wrestling team?"

Silence. Many in the room don't quite know what to do with that answer. Should they be marvel at girl's obvious talents? Or should they be frightened of her apparent disregard? Santana has a look of respect mixed in with her disdain whilst Brittany is confused. She had disliked riddles as a child, rather preferring the direct approach of unfiltered speech. Lauren is one of the few people that revels in quiet and the nervousness of others however because she finds that she actually cares about this motley crew she makes the decision to help move the conversation along. Her gaze is directed to Blaine.

"So I've heard for a gay guy, you're pretty tough. Kurt said you had a fight club going on at Dalton. Ever feel the urge to take some revenge on the people that bullied you at your old school?"

Surprise is evident in Blaine's features, not prepared for such knowledge about his history. For just a second he feels a flash of fear before it dwindles. He looks at the contrite Kurt by his side and realizes that his boyfriend might be blaming himself for his sudden loss of words. Blaine feels a wealth of warmth emotion fill his mind as he acknowledges that care and sensitivity that is all for him. He finds that he's glad Kurt tells his friends, this strange extended family, about him, because it means that their relationship is serious. So quickly enough, he gathers himself and gives his entire attention to the group. He wonders if this is his initiation.

"That's a tough question Lauren. And well, you know the rules of fight club; I can't talk about it. I definitely don't advocate violence but even back then there was a lot of pent up anger from feeling helpless. I would never go as far as to attack my tormentors now but sometimes I think it would be nice to be able to walk up to them and say _this is me…I'm still here…you didn't affect me._ "

A sharp inhale can be heard from Kurt as he stares resolutely down at the floor. Blaine's turns away from everyone else he faces the more feminine boy. The Dalton student lifts Kurt's chin up and feels the air escape his lungs. He sees pride, love and _genuine_ admiration in those impressionable young eyes. Blaine doesn't think he deserves all of that, but since Kurt already _believes, _he knows that he's not going to let him down as long as he can help it.

Tina lets them have their moment as she interjects softly.

"Artie…do you miss being able to walk?"

It sounds like a dumb and obvious question but between the two, there's a deeper meaning to it in their memories. For Artie, Tina was the first person that came along that cared enough to try to get him to hope again. After the accident, all his parents, friends and doctors had told him was that _with the current level of medicine it would be unlikely that he would ever be able to walk again. _And slowly, he had begun to believe it too; Artie stopped reading the latest medical research and threw away his dancing clothes for something more practical. He integrated cripple into his identity. But then Tina entered picture. She forced him to confront and acknowledge his negative outlook and to substitute it for something greater. She made him entertain other possibilities. Despite making Tina dance with Mike in the end, Artie learnt that it doesn't hurt to dream. He holds his exes' gaze, speaking kindly.

"I do miss it…_everyday. _But I'm not sad or angry over it anymore. I remember how it felt to be able to dance. But I am also comfortable with this chair. I mean I don't have Sam's abs but my arms are pretty good. It's not so bad. In fact, most times, it's even quite good. I get handicap parking, people are a little more lenient on me and I never have to carry around the shopping bags. I'm ok…"

Tina releases her breath and a look of relief falls on her face. Moisture gathers around her eyes and she's just so happy for her friend. Even Puck looks serious as he claps his friend on his back. Last in line, Brittany reaches over to squeeze Artie's hand before talking to Kurt.

"You remember that time when you tried to like girls? We kissed in your room and you kinda stayed still like a rock. Was I a bad kisser? Because San and the rest of the school love me ki – "

The dancer's brows are knit with worried confusion as Santana sits confused beside her. One of them had a lot of explaining to do. Kurt wore a horrified look on his face before his brain kicked into high gear and hurried to placate the tall blonde.

"No! Brittany, Brittany. _Listen_ to me. You were great but it was all my fault. I was trying to be someone I wasn't and as a result I couldn't respond to you properly."

If anything the dancer seems more puzzled. She's about to open her mouth for more questions but Santana stops it with a slow languid kiss. It is sweet and effective, managing to communicate a deep attachment and to warn any future guys away, _even if they are gay. _When Santana pulls away, Brittany wears a goofy smile and forgets her train of thought. She only remembers when the Latina pulls her close and whispers into her ear that she's the _best _kisser.

Rachel watches her friends contentedly, thinking that if everyone worked hard they could get their dream. She turns around so she sitting face to face in front of Quinn. Her eyes hold a glimmer of playfulness to which the pianist automatically groans. She knows the question that was coming.

"What happened the night of Christmas party?"

In her laughter, Santana chokes and spits out her punch. She remembers spending the day after helping Quinn clean and coming across a Rachel Berry collapsed out in a deep sleep on her friend's bed. She pictures the comical expression that drunken Rachel wears and the apparent liquid courage she gathers. Santana still has images snapped by her phone of the childish black marker drawing on those mahogany walls. She had kept them, thinking that the evidence would give her something to taunt her captain with. She really didn't expect for it to stay. She didn't see it coming that Quinn would revere it, as a _normal _person would admire a Picasso.

Brittany is busy trying to keep Santana quiet as she casts apologetic looks to Rachel who seems eyes widen. The brunette narrows her eyes towards Quinn.

"What happened?"

Everyone waits patiently with their curiosity spiked. It's not everyday that Santana cackles like a mad man and Quinn looks embarrassed. The blonde lets her fingers trace the diva's jawline, worshipping the planes and curves. She closes her eyes so that she can concentrate on the small changes in Rachel's breathing. Fast. Fast. Slow. Leaning forward she drags her girl back into her arms and whispers.

"You kissed me and drew all over my bedroom wall… The cheerio and the star… in a heart."

Their friends whoop, coo and cheer at the supposed romanticism but the two girls don't pay them any thought. Rachel's eyes soften and glaze over. It is like for the first time she gets access to her memories of that night. She remembers loud noises and hard bodies. She had bumped into so many people in her attempt to get away from alcohol saturated Finn. And then she was dancing. It had been fun until a meaty hand gripped her dress. She hadn't liked it and wanted to go away. She recalls trying and being followed; her fear starting to creep in. However the alcohol made her muscles heavy and uncooperative. Things got blurry. And then somebody stepped in, strong, angry and protective. Rachel had felt suddenly warm and as if her feet didn't touch the ground. And her feet really didn't that night, because she was carried bridal style up the stairs.

In the present, the singer stares into hazel colored eyes and her only thought is _Quinn. _She drew on the blonde's wall because even in her drunken state she wanted to leave a mark on the taller girl. And the hearts, cheerio and star? Well, maybe the alcohol had made her honest. She remembers kissing Quinn because the pianist saved her, was stunningly pretty and because _Rachel Berry really wanted to…_

Rachel smiles, her hands go over Quinn's, squeezing and directing pale arms until they warp slight tighter around her. She leans into Quinn and she swears she can feel her girlfriend's heartbeats against her back. Closing her eyes she realizes that this leaves herself open for questioning. The pianist could find out what was plaguing Rachel if she decided to ask. She would get to see the letter from Julliard. And the diva knows that Quinn comprehends that fact because her breathing becomes different, slower and deeper as if to contemplate world poverty or some mystery of the universe.

The minutes pass and nothing really happens. Rachel is surprised, knowing that if the roles were reversed and given the chance she _would have asked, would have pressured and would have forced it out of Quinn._ And In some ways she wishes the softball player _did_, just so she didn't have to wrestle with the decision anymore. Because when she turns around and takes in the sincerity and quiet strength in the blonde's expressions, Rachel feels ten times worse. She wants to keep the blonde with her _for the foreseeable future. _She realizes Quinn is never going to make her say anything. She's simply going to wait because Rachel told her to.

Instead to break the strange gap, Puck snaps his finger in front of the catatonic couple.

"Since you're not taking your turn, Quinn, you can answer mine. Which one of us is going to be the godparent to your first kid?"

The girls stare at the footballer blankly and Puck quickly replies.

"Don't look at me like that we all know it's going to happen."

This time, the girls chuckle, looking at each other. They deliberate for a moment. Rachel keeps tucking her hair behind her ear, furrowing her brows. Quinn bites her lip and shakes her head amusedly. It leads the rest of the club to wonder if the girls realize they're communicating without saying a word. Quinn eventually raises her head and she looks as certain as Puck has ever seen.

"Santana and Brittany."

It meets some surprise and _what about me_ thoughts in some people. Brittany hasn't changed from her usual level of delight but then again this time she might not fully comprehend the importance. Not yet, but give her time. Years spent in college and living with Santana will build on her personality, giving her certain skills, wider views and a slightly more conventional knowledge base in public. Lima residents won't recognize her. Thankfully though, for now her counterpart understands enough for the both of them. Santana meets Quinn and Rachel's gazes with gratitude and total acceptance of that trust and responsibility bequeathed.

Kelsey finds this interaction fascinating. She truly believes that few have seen these moments where Quinn and Santana let down their guards and show that they just may know each other a lot better than they've let on. She knows she might be overstepping her bounds. But this is a safe space. Even as a new addition she can feel it as clearly as hot or cold, pain or pleasure. So the redhead hopes that Santana decides to answer her question.

"Did you ever consider anyone before you and Brittany got together?"

Santana's looks are piercing and Kelsey actually feels _cold. _Dark turbulent orbs tells the redhead that the Latina already knows what she had been thinking and reasons for mentioning the topic. Still, she hasn't erupted and Kelsey sees it as her chance, She remembers what Quinn had taught her in their breaks about the older girl. The redhead squares her shoulders, sets her expression on of determination and does not back down. Sure enough, somewhere small and probably very insignificant there is a spark of respect blossoming in Santana's mind. She sighs and looks around. Nobody here scares her, and as a result she rolls her eyes and give in to the dumb game.

"Yes, I considered one other person before Britts and I gots together."

Shock and surprise floods everyone except for Quinn and Brittany. One of them already knows. The other learns just now and finds it interesting but ultimately unimportant, because she gets to have Santana now. She was slow but won in the end. Brittany recalls that for a long time they hadn't done their relationship right, choosing to give themselves to someone else, _anyone else. _So the dancer is actually glad that her girlfriend, her most important person considered another; who was probably better for her at the time. Brittany never wanted San to hurt.

"I met Brittany when I was 3 and Q at 8. We got along. There was a time when I was so confused and angry at Britts for floating around without a care when there was something in me I didn't understand… And Q? She was just there. We talked, played the piano and it helped. I desperately wanted to feel something there because it seemed like it would hurt me less. I thought converting a repressed Q would be far easier than trying to make Britts see what was going on."

Santana pauses, not used to the emotion and not used to extended bouts of sharing. Her eyes widen when a sniffle escapes the dancer. As Brittany looks up she had a sad expression and moist eyes. She keeps shaking her head to herself and isn't quite there. In a swift motion she is also cocooned in Santana's strong embrace. And despite the fact that she taller, she looks like a small child. The Latina keeps whispering.

"Britts hey it's ok."

"I'm sorry I took so long."

The words are said into the Latina's neck. Santana closes her eyes at the feeling. She rocks their bodies slightly and releases her confession in one raspy breath.

"I really didn't mind waiting."

Quinn watches her friends with protective instincts. The group spent the break in reflective quiet. This time it isn't uncomfortable. Kelsey learns that she doesn't quite know what to do with Santana's honesty. She finally realizes the differences in maturity and experiences that two years makes. She hopes that she gets the opportunity to learn from this group. On the other hand, Rachel has this afternoon's experiences tugging at her mind. The thoughts are pushing her to make a decision about Quinn and Julliard.

Kurt eventually speaks up.

"Brittany, why do you believe in happy endings?"

The dancer tilts her head. She seems utterly confused, not because she doesn't understand the words but more towards the fact that she doesn't see the purpose. To her the answer is as simple as feeding Lord Tubbington cheese or brushing her teeth at night. So she challenges the question.

"Why not? I have San. I have great friends. I get to do what I love, dancing. Life is good, if you let it be. Sure bad things happen but not all the time. I'm happier more times than sad. So, why not?"

It sounds so simple. The group wonders why they've never been able to see the world that way. It is a thought that they take home with them and raises the point with their parents, siblings or pets.

After some time, Finn puts himself into the firing range, knowing that his turn was up.

"What do you want to know?"

He doesn't even have time to regret his action before Santana has the helm with unmistakable calculation in her eyes.

"Finn Charming, I know you got the hots for somebody in this group, who is it?"

The footballer shrinks into himself as redness covers his features. The rest of the group laughs because they're all quite sure that they know the answer.

"Kelsey."

Finn speaks to the floor. Kelsey turns around in surprise, a smile slipping over her features. Her teeth tug at her bottom lip. She wants so badly to tell him that it was all right, that his feelings were returned and that he wasn't alone. But she doesn't because it is hard. She's not sure that she really cut out for stable relationships. Suddenly she's flashed with the spectacular failure that was her parent's marriage. But then again, sometimes what's needed a push in the right direction. Kelsey hears Quinn's voice and she wonders how many favors this makes, that she owes to the softball captain.

"Kelsey, your turn. Who's your crush?"

The redhead looks to the blonde, then Rachel and then Santana. She spends seconds in thought before shaking herself roughly, throwing caution to the wind. Her lips land on a surprised Finn. The boy smells of shaving cream, generic laundry detergent and engine grease… _She takes so many deep breaths, _the cheers of their friends fade to the background.

/

"She's beautiful, isn't she?"

Judy's voice sounds from behind. Rachel jumps, looking around. Slowing she realizes that she is outside of Quinn's room where the door is half open. She remembers how she got here. Half an hour ago, Quinn had gone up to her room to retrieve a movie to watch. But as the minute hand made many travels around the clock face, the group sent the singer to check up on the blonde. Her absence was acutely obvious after a whole day of constant camaraderie. Now that Rachel returns to herself she wonder's how long she's been standing there. Would a search party be sent for her as well? If so then they'd be in the same predicament. They'd be motionless in awe of the beauty before them. Quinn lightly-coloured hair would fly out and passionately return to her face as she moves. Fingers dance elegantly along the keys of a large grand piano as the melody wraps itself around a spellbound audience of two people. The lighting casts soft shadows that enhance the vitality of each feature of the pianist. Rachel stares unashamedly, practically breathing out her response.

"Yeah, sometimes I still can't breathe around her."

Judy chuckles. She likes the fact that her daughter is so cared for. The mother also takes pride that she could make a helpful contribution to Quinn's life. Appearance was in the genes after all.

"Rachel…thank you for helping my daughter with colleges."

Judy acknowledges the brunette's surprised look and waves it away. The mother had come home to her daughter pacing fighting between reading a large volume of research and throwing it away completely. Instead they had spent the time drinking tea and talking things over. Judy figured out that Rachel had once again pulled her Quinn away from her tendency to be self-subversive. The short girl had protected Quinn from Russell. Judy thinks she will never be able to communicate her gratitude.

"I couldn't imagine her staying in Lima. Don't get me wrong; with the money in her trust fund she will be fine. But she's always wanted out on her own terms."

Judy grasps both of Rachel's hands and squeezes.

"Thank you dear, you managed things that her father and I couldn't."

Rachel's sight finds Quinn again. The pianist was now leaning close to a half filled music sheet. A pencil is tucked behind her ear as she counts the bars mentally and with such focus. The singer chokes and whispers.

"She's perfect…Can I ask you something Judy?"

The mother looks up curiously causing Rachel to amend her statement.

"Actually, can I ask you two things?"

"Of course Rachel, honey what is it?"

"What's the story behind Quinn and the piano?"

If Judy is startled, she hides it well. Rachel suspects it is a talent all Fabrays possess. But on the two women, it doesn't seem nearly as harsh.

"Well her father always wanted her to play an instrument and because of my grandfather, my father, she gravitated towards the piano. Way back before he passed, the two of them, thick as thieves would lock themselves in the sun room and just play for hours."

The mother's eyes seem distant as she revisits the memory with a reflective smile. However, with each one of the following words it begins to harden.

"So when Russell started to pressure her about becoming proficient at it, I was so worried that she would lose her love for music. And maybe she did for a while…"

The notion sounds alarming because neither could imagine reality anymore where music wasn't an integral part of the pianist's life. Judy turns to face the singer.

"…But you, Rachel, brought it all back."

"I-I'm sure that's not true."

Rachel stutters at the enormity of the comment. She can't accept the praise for that. Not when she feels so cowardly in the present. Judy notices the internal conflict and lets the point drop. The other tries for something unrelated instead.

"That piano belonged to her grandfather. Nobody is allowed near it. She once threw the largest fit when I thought I might polish off the keys for her."

They share a chuckle. Rachel thinks that she can imagine it. She's seen Quinn around instruments, it nothing short of a milder form of worship. Judy watches how Rachel's eyes never stray from her daughter. The mother wonders what it would be like to be so enraptured by something that nothing else is worth seeing.

"What was your second question, Rachel?"

The diva swallows slowly, indecision lacing her words.

"Do you believe in keeping secrets in a relationship? That it is possible to not tell somebody something and for it not to be a betrayal when it comes out…"

For a moment, pain enters chocolate orbs at the thought. Rachel used to swear up and down that she could never hurt Quinn. Now she wonder's if it was ever in her control. She wishes that Julliard didn't offer her early entry; that she didn't have such a small window of time to reply but mostly she wishes that Quinn wouldn't be affected by her choice. But circumstances could be cruel. Judy's mind pours at the raw emotions on the singer's face. She likes Rachel; she thinks that she was good for Quinn. So the mother tries to be as kinds in her statement as she could, simply praying that God will let them do this right.

"I think that I can't answer that for you, especially as Quinn's mother. _But_, everyone is entitled to have a few moments, thoughts or memories for themselves. So it all depends on how important it is and whether you're willing to risk it."

A silence descends. When Rachel finally tears her gaze away from her girlfriend, Judy is already gone. The singer wonders if it was all a figment of her overstressed imagination but then she hears Judy's voice downstairs entertaining the others. Without the diva's notice she has walked herself into Quinn's room. The blonde seems to notice as she jumps out of her chair in a clumsy embarrassed rush.

"Hey Rachel I'm sorry I know I was supposed to come her just to grab a movie, but I got a bit distracted and–"

The feel of Rachel's lips on hers silences Quinn. It is a short chaste peck as Rachel draws away. Despite everything they are both out of breath.

"Play that song again. I've never heard it before. It's beautiful…"

/

Despite the partying below the floors and beyond the walls of the great house, the girls are in their own pocket of space within the universe. The downstairs squeals and chatter of their friends tether them to reality as intricate piano music lifts them above what they're used to feeling. They can't really be bothered to think about anything except each other's smile. Rachel is mesmerized by her girlfriend's skillfully moving fingers. Briefly into the song she might develop a blush when Quinn notices her line of vision. But it's evened out, when the blonde is caught staring the crevice where Rachel's silver music note necklace disappears under her haphazardly buttoned up shirt. They laugh. They hum. And they all to easily find the words to a song that they might've recognized for some time now. Maybe they've known it since Nationals last year or maybe only since yesterday. It's just as powerful, nonetheless.

/

At the end of the day, as Finn begins to leave, he has to move Rachel's belongings to get to his own. A folded sheet falls out. The footballer opens it and…_everything else that he had been holding drops to the floor. _The impact is _deafening _in his mind. The words Julliard and accepted echo, becoming more painful every time. He can still hear Rachel and Quinn laughing upstairs…

/

Till next time guys. =) If you're still reading that is.


	21. Chapter 21 Are you ready?

Chapter 21 – Are You Ready?

Hi guys so I'm still apparently alive. =) Here's the new chapter. Let me know how it goes.

Shoutouts to:

_Itsinyourimagination_ - So did you end up continuing after they got together? =D

_S8105_ – Sounds like an awesome deal. I love food. I'm glad you're enjoying this.

_Phoebex13 – _Haha amovie? That's awesome I kind of imagine the scenes when I write them too. I like Santana and Rachel's friendship as well. Don't worry that's going to stay around. Don't stay up too late. =)

_Lacraemag – _Thanks so much. Endgame is always going to be Faberry no matter how nice I make Finn ;)

_Smartblonde – _agreed he really shouldn't have read it but he makes up for it later

There's nobody on the roads in Lima. It's a deserted town for the night as everyone congregates in one area, the field of the local high school. Welcome to championship night, for softball and football. Pompoms, red and white coloured ribbons and advertisements for free event drinks litter the street. Cheers and screams sound in the distance as the lights get brighter the closer you get to the arena. Like gladiators the athletes are fierce in their school colours with determined eyes and strong jaws. There is so much energy in the students as they demonstrate their drive to succeed in this world, to make their mark and to _win. _

Footballers clap each other on the shoulders in congratulations, for a well-deserved triumph. Laughter, tears and joy on the public's faces. Somehow, boys stand like men as they hold their consecutive title in their minds, loud and proud. Suddenly Coach Beiste's voice comes from down the touchdown line, waving them over.

"Guys, come on the girls aren't done yet. Show your support and get over here!"

And yes, with prompting the thoughts click in their minds. _The girls were going for their championship as well. _Tonight the town had a lot to be proud of and without the stigma of girls versus boys or football versus softball; students and parents alike were united in their support. The unknown school newspaper journalist screamed her encouragements from the back row, as for once she feels like a hero. Her voice and enthusiasm pushes tired boys to run that little bit faster and _thus_ she's a part of the team tonight. Similarly, the nervous trombone player distributes refreshments to the softball girls. When Brittany, Santana and Quinn utter grateful and breathless thanks, he's their medic on the frontline tonight, an integral part of it all. Decades later, he'll tell this story to his kids as an example of the tenacity and strength that comes from being a unit and shedding cliques and stereotypes.

At any rate, Finn, Puck, Sam, Artie and Mike quickly shake the hands of the loosing team and head over to the smaller field to the left. They are cumbersome in their get-up but nobody minds as they fumble their way. Instead people slide over to make room. They hand the footballers streamers and number one signs to hold, believing that the girls could do _this._

Everyone waits with bated breath. It's the last batting. Santana is on third base, Kelsey on second and Brittany on first; they _all _want to get home. Adrenaline and exertion causes their chests to heave as they move lightly back and forth on their heels to remove the aches. They're only in high school, playing what had previously been dubbed a doomed sport for McKinley, _but to them nothing seems more important than this moment. _It feels as if the next five minutes could write their history. Ridiculous right? Quinn takes a deep breath steeping to the plate. She swings the bat a few times to remember the weight. Rachel has her hands clasped together in anticipation, loving the way her girlfriend's helmet fits slightly off kilter. She's made the decision to tell Quinn about Julliard tonight. She hopes that love is enough to keep them together and _sane _in the coming weeks.

Life seems to play out in slow motion. The ball leaves the pitcher's hand, sailing across the night sky. _Pop!_ It makes contact with the bat and suddenly the stand erupts. People are shouting, pointing and falling over at the scene in front of them. A flash of dark brown, a streak of red and a glimpse of blonde make it back in record speed. _Safe. Safe. Safe. _There's not a lot of energy left in their bodies but nevertheless they hold themselves up. Santana yells directions to her captain about the incoming ball from the outfield. Brittany bounces excitedly in place and Kelsey just stares with her bottom lip tightly caught in between her teeth…

_Quinn, Quinn, Quinn!_

The voices shout…and it causes Rachel to close her eyes. She remembers the day before.

/

_Flashback – 2 days ago_

Rachel Berry wanders down McKinley's halls, trying to ignore the excited murmurs and dangling streamers. It was championship week and the school was fluttering with anticipation and happy energy. Still, amongst her paranoia, the diva couldn't savor it. She couldn't enjoy it when some random came up to her to congratulate and talk about her girlfriend's upcoming moment. She couldn't wholeheartedly cheer during Quinn's training sessions and she couldn't get rid the lead lining her stomach. After the pool party, she had decided to show her fathers the acceptance letter, but it wasn't in her bag where she left it. There was a moment of confusion before the situation sunk in and the worry began to overtake. The only issue in her mind was whether it would somehow reach Quinn. Rachel feels her lip quiver; and she knows that she's _still a coward._

She tries to adhere to a routine for comfort and there's a note taped on the metal of her locker. At first she feels guilty, suspecting that it was from Quinn, probably a sweet message with an all too flattering doodle. How do you be with someone so perfect? Rachel then questions if she's a bad person when she feels relief from realizing it isn't from her girlfriend. Instead, it is a messy scrawl that simply says.

_Your letter. Lunchtime. Bleachers._

The brunette sighs and looks around distrustfully. She wants to laugh and cry when Quinn comes around the corner, sweaty and mud streaked in the most endearing manner. The blonde looks tired from training but since she couldn't drive the brunette to school, she's not going to miss out on walking her to her first class. And as much as the singer hide behind her smiles and performer's masks, Rachel thinks that on some level Quinn knows her turmoil, recognizing the high pitched greeting and nervous fidgeting …The thing is… the blonde probably _does know, _but all she does is take her girlfriend's hand and books. She just smiles softly and she tugs Rachel to class. Quinn _is_ concerned, but her trust in the shorter girl keeps her unburdened. She believes that when it's important she'll be told. She _needs _to believe that.

/

Rachel taps her foot on the floor of the bleachers as impatience seeps in. The mystery person was late! Still in passing time, she stares at the field. Everyone was so busy and focused, catching, throwing, and kicking. There's a belief in all their eyes that this coming event is important, it _is defining…And _somehow in the grandness of the sports arena and the concentrated activity, Rachel feels incredibly small. She sees people who have more direction than she does despite having less. They're working so hard for that golden opportunity, a college education and a way out. The singer already has it and she doesn't feel changed. Sure, her achievements sounded impressive but in the end that's all it was, a shiny accomplishment to add to the collection. Rachel sits there pondering all the philosophical debates of the century, not the least of which, are you truly _alive_ without someone to understand, love and share it all?

A shuffling noise comes from her side and her head automatically whips around. Her brown eyes are furious, intent of giving the thief a piece of her mind. When the time comes, there are no sounds other than a squeak.

"You! Finn, why? How?"

The bumbling giant is still in his football armor as he ungracefully drops his body down next to the singer. His hair is matted with sweat but the most striking feature was the tired look on his face. Finn exhales slowly. There is a barely noticeable tick in his face as he hands her acceptance letter. Frankly, the boy isn't sure if he's angry or guilty. Swallowing forcefully and clearing his throat, he refuses to look at Rachel. Somehow, along the way, he _finally _fell out of love with the singer and now, he can finally see her flaws…_her mistakes_. Finn learns to take her off the pedestal in his mind. She was lost like the rest of them when it came to relationships. His voice is low and distant.

"At the party, you and Quinn were having so much fun upstairs no one wanted to get in the middle of that…so we grabbed our own stuff. My bag was next to yours and the letter _just _slipped out."

Rachel's mouth drops open and for a moment she resembles a fish. The only words that tumble out are a faint accusation and even then there's no passion and no real sense of righteousness. They both know that she's wrong this time and no amount of self-bolstering and "alone time" is going to change it.

"…You had no right."

The footballer smiles sadly. He nods in agreement and tries to massage the tension from his face. Images go in and out of his mind so quickly; he can't comprehend the mess of emotions. However, Finn remembers the last one. It is of Quinn. She's in the glee choir room. The group has broken out into an impromptu rendition of the latest pop song. Rachel is weaving around in laughter and Quinn is quiet. She's got glazed over eyes and a dream-like smile. Those that catch it, label the expression as "_dorky and hopelessly in love." _But nobody really minds because they think it's kind of magical, how the girls got to this point. They think it's strangely _perfect_ that Rachel loves performing, and Quinn loves watching, creating and clapping the _loudest at the end_. So when the girls decide to share the roles, everyone is in awe. It's something extraordinary. Finn thinks about all those things as he looks up meeting the singer's gaze head on. For once, the voice he takes to Rachel is hard.

"I know…but were you ever going to tell me? _Hell_, were you even going to tell Quinn?"

A silence befalls them. The brunette hugs her legs closer to her chest as she turns away. It's not much of an escape because Quinn is right there… out on the field. The blonde is confident as she yells encouragements and directions to her teammates. She reveals genuine pride towards effortful attempts and tries dispels everyone's disappointment, a general to an amateur army. And even from 60 meters away, Rachel feels tingles; her care for the girl wells up and renews itself in a stronger, more persistent form.

And after just a moment Rachel lets out choked laughter, because despite everything, _the most important part of all hasn't changed. _Finn looks over. He recognizes the signs. The blush, the nervous excitement and softness that overtake tan features, it _is love, no matter how blind or unreasonable._ There's a real potential for a future there but it will all disappear if one of them doesn't make the right decision now. Sacrifice is a noble thing, _if it is really necessary and if it isn't selfish. _The decision to pass up the early offer was none of those things. Finn thinks that deep down, Rachel understands. The singer has to, because the way she flinches and the longing glances that appear at the mention of Julliard weren't normal._ He just never thought Rachel Berry would ever be afraid of her dreams._

"This is _Julliard, _Rach. You got in. You got your dream...and you're just sitting there."

The footballer persists. His voice is getting louder in his need to make his ex see the truth. With his confusion obvious, he turns to the singer and squeezes her hand for attention. Rachel looks up and tries to wipe away the moisture around her eyes. Next to a familiar face and an old friend it is hard to try and control her emotions. It seems real and becomes harder to lie. Santana is a great but Rachel has always trusted Finn. _There was too much pressure. Too many things going right in her life, that the thought of making a mistake seems daunting, ominous and catastrophic. _

"A lot of time has passed Finn, I've changed. _People change_."

The argument is as weak as Rachel feels, with desperation rising behind each word. Rachel is about to break at the end of her plea. And with her small rocking back and forth and the defeated expression, Finn begins to get angry. He _loved _the strong confident girl who had dreams that she cared about, _maybe a little too much, _but still. People often commented that he was too slow or blind. However, the footballer thinks it's worse when you understand everything and even then you choose to let yourself be washed away or overshadowed. He can't help but scoff and shake his head adamantly. The words come out short and close to yelling.

"No! People don't change the important things! God, I can't believe she was right!"

In his spiel, the memory comes back to him. And as if it only happened yesterday, he swears he can hear Quinn talking him from last year's nationals. The cautious way she asked about Rachel future and his place in it. Finn remembers the following threat. It had been an unusual mixture of intimidation, respect and kindness as the blonde made certain that any relationship that she had helped to build, would also be ended if Rachel Berry somehow lost her direction and chose to stay with the boy. The blonde had tries to guarantee the diva's future and he had always questioned why she cared so much. Finn almost misses Rachel's tentative question.

"Who was right?"

"Quinn."

Finn whispers the name softly, staring into the singer's brown eyes. Rachel doesn't look surprised, just sad. The tall boy wonders what that means. They just stay silent for a while. Eventually he has to break the silence. It probably wasn't the right moment but Finn really didn't do well with uncomfortable stops in conversation. Quinn didn't handle them well either but it seemed with Rachel, she's definitely willing to try or at the very least she _refuses to lash out. _It's something more than what Finn could offer. The footballer understands now and he thinks that it's sweeter than anything. So he wants to tell the brunette about Quinn and what she's willing to do.

"Back at the beginning when I first asked Quinn to help, she told me that I had to keep my feelings under control."

Rachel shakes her head in disbelief. Finn worried she has the wrong idea and intercepts.

"I mean, she told me that if you really cared for someone, you would be all in, somehow she figured that you'd give everything up for that person. That was a year ago, and she already knew. Crazy huh?"

The footballer shakes his head as he looks up to the sky whilst Rachel smiles into her jumper. She feels _warm, like the world wasn't so hard anymore. _Quinn was a veritable guard dog to her problems, a wall that won't let all the bad stuff through. And, for the first time since receiving the letter, Rachel realizes how she's been pushing that protection away in favor of solitude and false nobility. The thought that lingers is that _Quinn is still there, carrying her books, walking her to class and kissing her devotedly. _What has she done?

The tension starts to leave Finn, he's glad that she's opening her eyes because the blonde doesn't deserve this. She shouldn't have to be shut out and to work so hard for love and trust. Quinn is one of the people in McKinley who actually deserves more than what she's been given. However it seems that the she doesn't mind, the pianist takes everything in stride because she knows first hand that life is hard and things get better after the storm. Rachel is her something better. Finn hopes that the brunette will never stop being that but based on the singer's turmoil, he doesn't think she'll let that happen. _Rachel cares too much as well._

"Funny thing, Quinn told me that if I let you give up Julliard, Broadway or whatever that she would step in you know? She said that she'd make it happen, break us up if she had to."

Rachel takes a while to digest the information. By now she might as well have gnawed through her bottom lip. Finn is just worried that he might have to return the favor.

"Finn?"

The boy looks up.

"Yeah Rach?"

The singer appears shy and hesitant.

"How did you know that I haven't talked to Quinn about this?"

Finn tightens his jaw and turns away. He doesn't want to hurt the singer. The words come out as a mumble.

"…I don't know…"

Rachel doesn't believe it as she stares penetratingly at the footballer. Like all those times in the past, Finn becomes unnerved and gives in. He sighs, running a hand through his head. The explanation he offers is simple and resounding, directing their gazes to the blonde on the field.

"Because she happy..."

And it's so true. Quinn has a carefree aura as she laughs right in the face of Sue's barrages and high fives her teammates. It's nearly perfect moment when the other girls scoop her up and lift her on their shoulders, all the while hooting. The picture isn't complete because Rachel isn't right there next to her…but once again, _it damn close._ Rachel whispers heartbreakingly.

"Why should I tell her if it's going to ruin that?"

Finn wrestled with that same question since the night of the party and even now he's not sure of the right answer. However the footballer has to believe that decisions have to be shared as a couple, otherwise one person might as well just be the luggage carrier for the other, waiting for direction. And Quinn Fabray would never be that. He explains as best he can.

"Because she deserves to know if she's really a part of your future. And well…she _loves you."_

Rachel feels herself nodding like a child hearing about gravity for the first time, scared, confused and curious. She has just a million questions before she willing to accepts the concept as a fact. There only one most important one though.

"Will she be ok with this?"

Finn scratches his head.

"Your guess is as good as mine. But Quinn wants this for you. She always has. Last year she didn't believe in herself but she believed in you. Kelsey says that that's something."

That's an understatement, when he had told Kelsey the story she had been tear stained and dumbstruck by her captain and the fierce emotion she had towards the diva. After the initial shock, the redhead had proceeded by smacking Finn on the back of his head, ranting about his lack of foresight and how he could stand in the way of a_ great love? _Finn had only chuckled, endeared by the large reaction. She was right after all. Rachel and Quinn, it's a connection that Lima residents almost never get the chance to see.

Soon Rachel's soft voice pulls him away from his thoughts.

"I don't want to leave her."

Finn nods.

"Well, maybe you won't have to. Med school offers are out soon."

In fact, everyone's letters were out soon. Most of the senior body just tried to conveniently forget about this fact. It was easier than the idea that, a board of administrators and their ability to be moved by words on a page were currently deciding their futures. Finn places a hand on her shoulder. His next words wake the large limb feel heavier than it is.

"What if Quinn finds out later and it's not from you? Can you live with that?"

_No. _

That's Rachel's only thought. She doesn't even notice the wetness trailing down her cheek. But what she does notice is that Quinn isn't there to wipe it away. She can't hear the lilting voice tell her that _it's ok_. Rachel can't imagine not having that in New York.

"The deadline for acceptance is 4 days from now."

Finn knows this after reading the letter and he's tempted to tell her that. However he sees the way her hands get a little more erratic and after months of training about how to read Rachel Berry, he can hear Quinn telling him to leave it alone, _that Berry needs this. _Instead he asks the more important question.

"Are you accepting?"

_Please say yes. _Finn hopes that his arguments have made it through.

"I think I still can get in second round with all the other applicants."

Rachel's answer makes Finn groan into his hand. He's aggravated by the singer's lack of ability to yield. She promptly ignores his obvious disagreements and continues her line of thought.

"It's not like I need early entry. I mean I have asked around and if I don't accept early entry I'll simply be reconsidered in the second round. That way, Quinn would have NYU's response and we can go through the process together."

Finn is amazed by Rachel's ability to fool herself into thinking that the world will just go along with her life plans. That was one quality that hadn't changed. The footballer does not know whether to be happy or exasperated. At least some part of the Rachel he knew was in there. However his decision is made for him when he catches the way she cradles the acceptance letter to her chest as if it were something really precious, _as if it was something she was afraid to lose… _He just hates that she suddenly willing to ignore that and as a result his frustrations come out.

"Oh my god Rachel! Are you hearing yourself? This isn't even you anymore. I don't know who I'm talking to but it isn't the girl I knew and fell in love with freshman year!"

His loudness causes the singer to jump. With wide eyes, she _finally listens. _Finn takes a deep breath before continuing. He tries to soften his voice to make the next part kinder because he honestly wasn't out to hurt her. It is the last thing he wants.

"The truth is that you don't even know if you'll get in again later. From what I've heard from Kurt, Julliard is competitive, what makes you think that you'll get a second chance?"

And Rachel realizes that she doesn't know. She comprehends that she's just been on blind faith. The thing is she used to scoff at those people. She used to understand that dreams were continuous hard work and that the road to stardom wasn't supposed to be easy. You couldn't win every role, but you were still supposed to try. It made you stronger and better so that you could become the lead in the next play.

Finn squeezes her hand, before going on.

"Quinn has the world on her shoulders because of her dad, her mom and sometimes the school. But you? You are supposed to be the one thing she _doesn't _have be responsible for. I thought you were gonna be the person that could take care of _her. Everyone knows she needs it."_

His voice kind of cracks as he stuffs his hand in his pockets. A temporary storm passes over his innocent features as he remembers the pain and tiredness ever since Beth.

"Rachel. You were supposed to be open and you shouldn't make the decision to give up your dreams. Because if we're honest, you know that, you doing that, is going to hurt her a lot more. She won't be able to take it if she's responsible for you not going to Julliard."

There's a sense of finality to that last statement. He stops talking, saying all that he could. Finn doesn't ever remember speaking so seriously and for such a long time with Rachel in the past. He guesses that after all this time Quinn really was key to making their relationship work and keeping their conversations real. Without warning Rachel hugs him. He can feel moisture seeping into his t-shirt and hopes that she doesn't mind the stench. Her words come out muffled.

"When did you get so smart?"

Finn chuckles.

"I didn't. But I guess some things are easier to understand when you're not in the middle of it."

Finally they let go and Rachel is calmer. She has that familiar sense of clarity in her eyes as she sit straighter. Confidence returns like an old friend. She was going to tell Quinn after the championship game. She was going to accept the offer…They would do it all together.

Rachel paces the letter into her bag and turns back to Finn.

"How are you and Kelsey doing?"

The tall boy blushes furiously as he rubs he back of his neck. All he can offer is one thought.

"She one of the few girls who doesn't mind having a date in a car shop."

That one thought is enough to create an understanding. Rachel smiles brilliantly as she hugs him again.

"Hold onto her, Finn."

_End Flashback_

/

Rachel feels herself watching as Quinn started her run. The crowd is chanting the blonde's name like the hero in the story and in a way she is. Sue stands beside the singer, her jugular vein sticking out as she yells unintelligible motivational threats into her megaphone. Rachel winces and she can acknowledge that if sounds like an oxymoron, but hey, say what you will, the woman's tactics work. She got a group of bored girls all the way to the championships. She gave them a proper goal and legacy to achieve in their last year.

Quinn touches second base, with a small smile.

Rachel jumps in excitement with the rest, waving her number one foam finger up, down and sideways. Her fathers and Judy are doing the same behind her. The parents wear red and white face paint and have been cheering even in some of the wrong moments. It is embarrassing to be associated with them but Rachel can't say that she minds. And Quinn won't either. Over the course of the game, the blonde acknowledges her support team before every batting, during every pitch and after every home run. She never felt so proud. _Everything is going right. She even forgets about waiting for that other shoe to drop. _

Quinn rushes past second at Santana's loud insistence.

The blonde is relaxed even amidst the last score because she has her Rachel again. Somehow yesterday the singer came to her house after dinner and kissed her, _softly, passionately and lovingly. _They shared popcorn and a movie, topping it off with a piano lullaby. Quinn felt the lack of anxiety radiating off her girlfriend and discovered that she really missed the light behind those chocolate eyes. She resolves to find some way of bringing that faster back the next time as she brought the singer closer. The blonde is no longer scared by the fact that she never wants to let go. And it's all right that Rachel never told her the problem, because in the end, she came back. She proved that the softball player never had to worry about her, _too much_. So they're going to end up together.

Quinn reaches third base but by then she's not looking at home. Hazel eyes catch browns and in less that a second two girls are smiling like they don't know how to do anything else. Everyone seems to notice the direction of the captain's gaze because all of sudden the audience gets louder and Rachel's name is thrown into the chant. Brittany is jumping down joining in with the cheer. Santana has a tiny smile that she really doesn't want to let out as she shakes her head in amusement. Kelsey is laughing her head off. The other team just seems confused because soon enough Quinn runs with a speed others didn't know she possessed. She's quick not because she is running to home base, even if it _is_ on the way. The blonde has her second wind because she hurrying to get her girlfriend in her arms and the game was in the way of that. In her mind the game was going far too long. Due to training she hasn't been able to talk to Rachel all day and as a result she's been experiences withdrawal, so she's ending it.

Quinn has gracefully stepped on the home plate. The voice of McKinley gets impossibly loud. It is just a blur of students jumping up and down and hugging each other. Quinn stays where she is smiling toothily and proudly at Rachel. In response, the singer tucks a loose dark strand of hair back behind her ear. It must have fallen in the excitement. She can feel the attention of her classmates. Her blushing face looks up and she meets the blonde's gaze. That _must be the signal _because Quinn catapults herself forward. She jumps over duffel bags and softball equipment to the first bleacher. Before she knows it, she's got Rachel Barbra Berry in her arms and she spinning them around. She hears encouragements of the _kiss her _variety. The girls tilt their foreheads against each other, laughing. Quinn glances up from her eyelashes in mock permission and Rachel rolls her eyes. She communicates the playful _oh if you have to _huff. And their lips meet. The adrenaline causes tingle to amplify and they're trembling with joy.

They get one of their _forever moments. _It is something that will stay with them and keep them warm during the hard times.

"Wow. So the rumors are true. McKinley's captain is a dyke!"

A voice from the other team snickers. Suddenly everyone is quiet. Victories are temporarily overlooked. Nobody knows what to do with the comment. Ever since the mass slushying, McKinley has been living in a bubble of friendliness and acceptance. They forget that the world wasn't like that. They forget how they used to be, before Kurt, Quinn and Santana. As a group they bristle with anger, feeling the insult acutely on their conscience and for their friend and sometimes leader, Quinn. Parents start muttering to themselves worriedly and Burt Hummel and Judy Fabray are enraged. Thankfully, Leroy and Hiram Berry are there to keep them back. Though behind their calmness lies protective anger.

Santana automatically stands in front of Brittany and looks at Quinn. The Latina has clenched jaw and fists, anger just simmering behind dark eyes. A snarl is on her face and she's ready to fight for her friend, Brittany and herself. Quinn is expressionless, she presses a soft kiss on Rachel's temple and pushes her into Finn's arms. She mouths the words _keep her safe, _to which the boy nods unquestioningly. The rest of the glee boys follow her away from the stands. Sue eyes flicker with hidden worry as she watches her captain, the young Sue Sylvester, get closer to the ingrate from the other team. Surprisingly nobody is interfering, maybe because they sense the commanding presence exuded from that one girl or maybe because they are still a little cowardly. It is something every person tries to figure out as they watch the scene. Rachel fights against Finns grip as she tries to get to her girlfriend. Fear floods her being. The closer Quinn gets to the other team, the more obvious it becomes just how much larger and bulkier the other girls were.

Like a war, lines are drawn. Santana places her hand on Quinn's shoulder; it is both of warning and in support. The blonde shakes her head softly as she smiles sadly. Her eyes communicate her appreciation and she removes the touch and walks forward. She's leaving the strong line of her team who without thought moved in line behind their captain. They have narrowed eyes and threatening glints to their eyes. Santana hates the fact that Quinn is so accustomed to the burden of leading but sees no other way. The Latina couldn't leave Brittany unprotected and she couldn't be diplomatic even at the best of times. All she can think is that her friend better _not to anything stupid because she's got her own girl waiting for her to come back_.

Quinn swallows purposefully, never wavering in her eye contact with the seeming head of the other team. It been a while since she's had to experience such irrational hate. It almost makes her mouth feel dry as she gets within striking distance. In her periphery she can see the other girls tense, readying themselves. It is unnecessary; she wasn't going to start anything. The town watches with bated breath as Quinn extends her arm for a handshake.

"It was a good game. Thank you for playing."

The other captain looks surprised, slapping the hand away, before she spits venomously.

"That's all?"

Tilting her head to the side, Quinn's expression is hard as she analyses the other girl. The girl is tall, gracefully thin and surprisingly pretty. She doesn't fit the bully stereotype and Quinn wonders what she was trying to prove.

"What do you want me to say?"

The other girl rolls her eyes and steps forward, glaring at everyone on the opposite side before focusing on their captain. From the way Quinn stands, it is easy for Rachel to convince herself that her girlfriend knows what she's doing. She knows that that lie is the most comforting thing right now. Finn doesn't let go of his grip on her, _not even a little. _For once, he was going to be something Quinn didn't have to worry about. He had never done that as her boyfriend but he knows that he will, now, as her friend. The other captain yells, spittle flies everywhere.

"Oh what about how all of you can participate in something so depraved? How about, how you guys are disgusting and lower than low in the eyes of God."

Quinn's eyes close, as she wipes away the foreign saliva. She takes deep breathes and her nostrils flare in annoyance. She was so _sick_ of religion being twisted. Santana taps her foot erratically, squeezing Brittany's hand. Her hand goes to her cross. Sam is just furious and about to rip into the girl. Gay and god are not mutually exclusive! Quinn raises a hand, keeping her friend back. For what its worth the bottled blonde nods and stay back. Turning around, Quinn faces the girl again. So many sharp words are rolling her tongue and she reminds herself that Christianity is just various interpretations. Don't judge. She crosses her arms and when she speaks it clear and loud enough to cut across the field.

"I won't say that, because that will go against _my _beliefs. And I know what I'm going to say won't be nice."

The girls on the other team cackle mockingly to each other. There are sneers and whispers of the accusation 'wimp' under their breaths. The leaders eyes glitter with a dangerous streak. She whispers into Quinn's ear.

"Say it anyway..."

The pianist shakes her head, taking a measured step back. She keeps her posture strong because this wasn't a sign of surrender. It was just a desire to avoid stupidity.

"I don't think I will."

The other girl moves closer again. Rachel by now is thrashing in Finn's arms. She needs to be out there to help ground Quinn. Santana has Snix, the vicious evil personality. Fair enough, that side of the Latina was hurtful and cruel. Quinn doesn't have anything. So when she loses control or gives in to her rage, it isn't something that is dissociated. It is a change that occurs in her very character that tends to linger. In that way, Rachel thinks her girlfriend is more frightening and unpredictable. When Quinn gives up a little bit of herself every time she's mean, Rachel knows that the pianist thinks that it puts her one step closer to her Russell Fabray. _It's not true…_

The other captain scrunches up her face. She must have very good genes because even then, she's still objectively beautiful. Her scratchy voice really doesn't match that appearance.

"Is the wittle lesbian scared?"

Quinn scoffs and looks to the sky. Her runs her tongue along the edge of her teeth, trying to force the irritation down. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees her mother, huddled worriedly into Hiram's side. Mother and daughter share a second of communication and it becomes easier to be calm, to be someone that her mom could be proud of. The pianist refuses to look at Rachel because she needs to hold onto her anger and coldness. The brunette is her reward after.

"No, not at all. You? This? It's not worth it."

With that, Quinn turns away, ready to leave. It is the final straw because the other girl loses it. The shadow of her long messy bangs accentuates her rage filled coal colored eyes. For a moment, Mike shirks back. The girl looks almost feral.

"Oh yeah? What if I told you that I was going to get my boyfriend from the football team to crawl into your cute little girl's room tonight and teach her how a woman _should be_ around a ma – "

Before the sentence is finished, Quinn whipped around. Her bangs hit her cheeks with the momentum. She takes several threatening steps forward, this time leaning into the other girl's face. Hazel eyes burn with rage and the only thing holding back is Santana hand on her wrist.

"Walk. Away. Now."

Rachel eyes flicker worryingly from the distance. She hopes that her girlfriend's calm is enough to ignore the glee on the other captain's face.

"Well _that_ got a reaction from you. How about this? I bet that with a _man, _your girl will be reduced to a little whore. She'll be begging for him to finish her off and – "

This time the interruption is accompanied by a cracking sound. Quinn barely has time to register, but her fist is now covered with blood. There are gasps of shock. The scene freezes for a moment as the other girl staggers back holding her nose. The spell is broken as she looks up. Releasing a low growl she rushes forward, tackling the pianist to the ground. The strings keeping the teams in place are cut as people jump into the fray, fighting for their own. Rachel collapses in Finns arms. She just wants all the prejudice to stop. She wants Quinn to be the one holding her in a protective embrace. Santana looks around her and swears under her breath. She leans into Brittany, trying to make her voice heard over the grunts and yells.

"Britt Britt, I needs you stay back!"

Brittany looks confused. She shakes her head, about to follow Santana. The Latina cringes, her vision jumps between the Katie who was outmatched by a muscular outfielder and then Quinn who was outnumbered three to one. With one last look she pushes her wide-eyed dancer back and says one emotional word.

"_Please."_

Brittany has never heard Santana so worried. She feels her head nod dumbly, not quite sure what she was agreeing to. Brittany was just reacting to the worry lining her girlfriend's face. She doesn't know what to do when Santana leaves and goes off to help their teammates. Finn tries to shield Rachel from the sight, all the while keeping an eye out for Kelsey. Thankfully the tall redhead seems to be adequate in self-defense as she disables a few of her attackers. By now the town is sent into frenzy. The adults want to help stop the fight but they have their hands busy keeping the rest of the incensed student population at the stands. Sue shakes her head when she sees a terrified Principle Figgin's huddled in between Schuester and Red Mary Poppins. She starts to pull students off one another. However, in the end she is only one person and McKinley is at a disadvantage… because the glee boys on field refuse to escalate the fight. In their cumbersome gear they simply try to pull people off each other. But, unfortunately their football counterparts on the other team have no such moral qualms, as they help their girlfriends.

Brittany's head swims with the fury of actions, her heart lurching at the sight of blood. Three meters from her, Quinn has swollen cheekbones and a bleeding gash over her eye, as she's busy trying to keep the two other girls from her head. The dancer shouts worriedly.

"Stop! Please stop the violence."

Her voice is easily ignored. Quinn has thrown one of the girls off and is staggering on her left side to face the other. She doesn't see the footballer that's coming towards her back. Terrified for her friend. Brittany slams into that footballer's side before she can comprehend what's happening. Her gut instinct to help Quinn, bypasses her pacifist nature. She's deeply concerned by the damages on the pianist's pale skin; it's obvious that she was more the target than anyone else. Quinn tries to brush the troubled hands away, assuring Brittany that she was all right. From their left, Santana whirls around and sees the other captain head towards the duo. The girl with the bloody nose and wild eyes has a bat. The Latina heart stops beating because Brittany didn't notice anything, still trying diligently to check the pianist's injuries.

"Britts! Q! Watch out!"

Santana's voice is raspy in her desperation, knowing she's too far away to help. Quinn's eyes widen at the warning. She turns around just in time to see the bat swing down and to push Brittany out of the way. A sickening sound fills the ears of those players nearby as McKinley's softball captain collapses. She barely has time for her vision to swim before she blacks out. And everyone stops. It is like that is a catalyst for everyone to finally see the red danger light that should be flashing in their mind. They fall out of their riot filled haze and break apart. Judy's wail of her daughter's name is harrowing as she rushes towards the scene. Brittany by then is running her hands through her friend's short blonde hair and using her knee to cushion Quinn's head. In her mind the dancer is whispering, _please Quinn, wake up, we all need you. _Puck is holding Santana back as she tries to throw herself at the assailant, who drops the bat in horror. Backing away, she's looking her own hands in disbelief, understanding every single Spanish insult being directed at her. She's afraid of her own actions, the repercussions and most of all of the Latina who has tears coming down her cheeks. Santana looks unhinged, becoming louder and harder to control each time Quinn doesn't respond to a call of her name.

Finn in his surprise, lets Rachel go. The brunette who had been shielded by his large frame had missed everything. She looks around hopefully for Quinn. When she doesn't see her during her first look around her heart beats painfully quickly. She remembers hearing Judy's cry of sadness and runs to the huddled mass of people. The blood drains from her face at the sight. Quinn is lying prone, blotted with sporadic bruises and unmoving as if in a sleep. Rachel doesn't think. There is a moment where she reaches the height of her emotion, anger, pain and despair. Her hand shakily reaches her girlfriend's face and Brittany repeats sad apologies.

First the singer calls Quinn's name. No response. She then squeezes the blonde's hands and tries again. No response. Rachel is about to fall apart when she places her lips over her girlfriend's. For the millionth time, she wishes her life were like a fairytale movie, where the love's kiss could bring anyone back to animation. It doesn't…

Rachel hugs Judy tightly before standing. In her stride she throws away her rules, her peaceful nature and gives into the great ball of empty that has invaded her mind. The brunette walks to the guilty girl and pushes her back with small hands, her voice thick with tears.

"What were you thinking, hitting her head? She has friends and family here. She has a future!"

"Rachel, honey, calm down and let your father check Quinn out before you do something regrettable."

Hiram whispers as she tries to keep his daughter in his grasp. He backs them away from the other girl and brings them toward Quinn. By now Leroy had his ready medi-bag with him and was checking the blonde's pupil reactions. He sighs in relief when the dark circles constrict with the brightness and enlarges in the darkness. He tells Judy what that means. The mother collapses in relief. Leroy continues to check the other injury sites and as much as he hates to, he pushes down on a bruise. The pain seems to rouse the pianist as she lets out a small grown. Her eyes flutter before opening and she just a little disorientated. Her mother's petite frame is the first thing that she notices in her arms. Next is Rachel. Quinn tries to smile at her girlfriend reassuringly but the pain from her split lips stops that. So she tries her best, lifting her arms around and rocking the brunette softly. Everyone sags in happy relief.

"All right, Quinn, lets get you to the hospital. I would just like to get you a CT scan to make sure that there isn't any hidden damages that we can't see right now. I can take you, your mother, Rachel and Hiram in one car and your friends might have to find their own way?"

Quinn shakes her head at the thought. She's just a little amazed by the sheer number of people that guard her, within a tight circle.

"I'll come with you but Santana, Brittany and you guys don't have to come. You heard Rachel's father I should be fine. We just won championships tonight. Go out and celebrate."

A gap occurs. The glee members look at each other in disbelief. They seriously wonder if that hit did more damage than they thought because there was no way they weren't going to be there in that waiting room. Santana finally shrugs Puck off, nonchalantly straightening out her uniform. She crosses her arms and looks down at her friend. Quinn and the Latina stare intently at each other. The pianist eyes eventually soften. She recognizes the difference between worry and frown lines on her friend. She can distinguish when those dark eyes are hardened with fear, not anger. Santana lets out a sigh and asks.

"Q…done being a idiot about this?"

Quinn laughs. It's a wonderful light sound that causes her chest to rumble. Rachel can feel it transpire through her own body, cell to cell. She can feel every movement sheltered in her girlfriend's arm. Her lips are pressed to elegant collarbones as she reminds herself that everything is all right and that she hasn't lost anything yet. Santana lets out a minute smile.

"Good, see ya in the hospital Q. As much as I trust Papa Berry over there, I don't wants you to be falling over your own feet the second we turn around."

A series of chuckles follow. Brittany happily bumps Quinn in the shoulder. Yes it's their brand of caring. One last statement is released, but this one is serious.

"My dad should be in the surgery anyways."

There's a no-nonsense aspect to her tone and Quinn is resigned. She nods in agreement. It's rather insane because Mr Lopez is a neurosurgeon and all she has is a bump on her head. However the pianist isn't stupid, Santana won't let this go, she needs to assure herself that nothing is wrong with her best friend. So what's an extra checkup with another doctor in the grand scheme of things? When Quinn moves, Rachel's hold tightens automatically, anxiety rolling of her frame in waves. Immediately, the pianist stops trying to get up to the surprise of those waiting around. Questioning gazes are ignored as the blonde focuses her attention to Rachel. She lifts her girlfriend's chin. Hazel and tearful eyes meet, the love that is there is infectious, drawing smiles on even the burliest audience. It's warm, ingrained and slightly panicked. And maybe hearts could swell or it was the increased blood pressure but the blonde's chest feels funny, like butterflies fluttering and taking her breath away. Words don't seem strong enough, so she kisses her girl.

The movement is slow because Rachel is surprised, and unprepared for the audience. Quinn's tongue runs along the seam of the singer's full lips. Back and forth, asking for entry. Rachel understands that she's never going to refuse so she throws herself into the contact. She opens her mouth and massages the pianists tongue lovingly. There a small strength to her motions and it reminds them that they're both here, together.

Nobody is going to take that away from them.

/

Puck throws a tennis ball, watching it rebound back to his hand. Pop! He's pretty sure that the nurses in the waiting room are more than a little irritated but they just tolerate it with tense smiles. Normally waiting rooms aren't supposed to house local singing clubs, but tonight everyone is making an exception. They let the group of 13 students flood through the doors and settle into uncomfortable plastic chairs. For the people that walk past the most notable is trio by the corner. A tall blonde has her arms wrapped around a small brunette. On their other side is a Latina with eyes that are constantly alert. It is subtle, but her body is angled in a protective stance. It seems to surprise even herself when she realizes, but Santana's concerned eyes flicker to the Rachel. And every now and then, she manages an awkward pat on the back. That small contribution is the best that she can do however it is amazing how comforting it can be.

Quinn Fabray, 18 years had been in the examination room for an hour now, most likely waiting for the results of her scans. Two of the hospital's best doctors are focused on the one girl. The nurses think that she's in good hands.

/

However sitting there, Rachel has a lot of time to think. She had forced Santana to reveal _exactly what_ was exchanged during the lead up to the first punch. When she finds out, Rachel is sad. The singer expects such a reaction from people, but is always _so disappointed when it happens. _She thinks that it'd be wonderful if the world could do something delightfully surprising and ignore the gender component. Heartbeats become a little faster and with nothing but white linoleum walls as her landscape, her mind takes a few creative leaps. Until she can see Quinn, all she can do is run through the list of events and try and pinpoint where it wall went wrong. The singer breathes sharply as she acknowledges her feelings. Even if it had been an over reaction and even if the blonde came out of this in perfect health, for just a second Rachel got to see life without Quinn Fabray. It is hard to describe. She felt as if life was a world of busy murmuring, boring schedules and murky colours. Nothing stood out and a soundtrack of sobs was on constant replay in the background.

Somehow it forces herself to reconsider her course: _Julliard and early entry. _Rachel has a feeling that Finn would be so disappointed. However _she's never going to be the one to leave in this relationship. And Quinn is never going to be the one to watch her back of her figure disappear into the distance._ The only future Rachel Berry will accept it is if they drive past and beyond the "Welcome to Lima" sign together.

_It isn't an impossible goal, but the girls are only 18 years old…_

/

In a room three doors down, Quinn swings her legs against the examination table, eager to get away. Santana's father and Leroy had insisted on every test imaginable. The pianist carries out every instruction without flaw. It partly because she respects the two men immensely and almost melts under their warm concern. Quinn will never say it but when Leroy takes the extra step to explain the science behind every procedure and when Mr Lopez decides to show her how to do a suture as they wait for the scans to develop, she close to crying. With a thick voice and moist eyes, she wants to hugs the two men tight because despite the strong smell of disinfectant on their lab coats, they're more of a father figure she's had in a long time. _She had been wrong she did need this. _

The other part is Rachel Barbra Berry. Quinn wants to be out of the room quickly so that she could sooth away that worried expression. The pianist remembers the mixture of despair and relief in her girlfriend the moment she had opened her eyes. Quinn knows that she should have focused on her mother who was actually in her arms but as usual and without fail; her hazel eyes found the brunette first. She holds onto the memory because it is hard to comprehend that she is that important to somebody. And for that person to be Rachel Berry; a brilliant, unbelievably open and intrinsically _good_ girl; it is more than she could ask for. So if anyone asks about the four stitches, split lip and bruised knuckles? The answer is that Quinn will do it all over again and she wouldn't change a thing. Maybe in the future, she gets to tell this story to a young blonde with the most _amazing _chocolate eyes about how the scar above her left eyebrow was in gallant defense of her mother and _love. _

"Quinn, if it is alright I would like to ask you something."

The blonde looks up curiously. Both men have serious expressions as they take a seat beside her.

"Ok. Ask me anything."

Leroy's eye twitches as he hesitates for a second. The man looks genuinely uncomfortable as her forces his vocal cords to work. He just knows that Rachel will scold him for this later. But right now? As a father? He feels that Quinn needs to understand her own actions.

"Why did you punch that girl?"

With those solemn eyes and rare unsmiling expression, Quinn thinks that he's disappointed in her. Instinctively she turns her attention to her toes, a remnant from a harsh childhood makes its way back to her consciousness. Quinn remembers doing this, back when her father used to care about the things she did. Back when, Russell still loved his daughter enough to have heart to hearts. The ticking of the wall clock forces her back as she attempts to clear her mind. She thinks about the answer to Leroy's question and stalls. Somehow, she expected her thoughts to be more forthcoming. After all the decision to punch the other girl seemed to be instantaneous.

"I – I don't… he insulted Rachel."

Even to her own ears, the words sound cluttered and unsure. Quinn bites her bottom lip and she's not sure if she wants to understand why. There's a faint sense of anxiety creeping up. Leroy watches and then shares a knowing look with Nicholas Lopez. Both fathers think back to their past. Leroy remembers having painfully bruised knuckles whereas Nick still has a scar on his jaw from a strong right hook, hidden under a thin layer of stubble. This was a transgression that had long since been forgiven. However, the lessons that had been derived from it remained with frightening clarity. One of the men, discovered how to be truly proud of himself. The other man, learned acceptance for an issue that would later play a big part in his daughter's life. For a second, the two doctors couldn't help but think that they had come a long way.

"Quinn, I'm not disappointed or judging you for your actions. In a lot of ways, it's actually quite heroic. But as much as Hiram and I try and ignore it sometimes, we know this isn't the first time somebody has said something mean or uncalled for, about Rachel."

The pianist flinches at the last comment. Ever since the mass slushy incident in the hallway Quinn hadn't felt the need to feel ashamed anymore. She had been forgiven. So, when all that self-loathing returns even _just for a momen_t, she just doesn't understand. Her clasped hands are shaking. She feels something hammering at the walls of her mind and every instinct is saying to shut it out. It is just so hard to do with Leroy beside her.

"I know you love my daughter but I want you to ask yourself why now? Why did you react the way you did today?"

The African American squeezes her shoulder in encouragement as Quinn looks steadfastly into the distance. Her eyes are glassy and she has to admit that she's not taking this well, _whatever it was…_Bile rises up in her throat and soon enough she can barely see through the watery layer in her eyes. Everything is just a mess and blur, and it would just be so easy to blame it on the concussion. If only the two men in the room would let her. Instead, their gazes are piercing and she just wants to hide. The thought causes Quinn to shake her head to herself. Why would she need to shy away? She swears that she has nothing to be ashamed about. All too quickly, rebuttals like; softball, glee and Rachel pop into her mind. It all insistently points to one central idea that her life is good. Yet, some part of her acknowledges that it was actually a cold fear that flashed in her mind when the girl on the other team first started speaking.

Nicholas Lopez kneels in front of the blonde. He smiles gently trying to break the tension. His eyes are rich like his daughter's, only slightly kinder around the edges. This is because_ his_ features are spared the hardness that develops from years of heartbreak and repression. The man remembers the first time he met Quinn. His only thought was that maybe she could be a good influence on Santana. And if mothers knew best then perhaps fathers were great judges of character, _because Quinn did help_. She was the best thing for the Latina when she didn't want to see or answer for something. When the blonde was first invited to their home, Santana went through her passive aggressive stage, lashing out at anything that moved. But that day, after spending the afternoon locked in a room with the pianist, Santana had come out and washed the dishes. It was an apology, the first real one that the Lopez household had seen from the angry young girl. To Nick, he can never thank Quinn Fabray enough but sure enough he's going to try. He is going to make her understand the thing that she's so afraid to admit before it destroys her relationship with Rachel Berry.

"Quinn, from what Santana has told me, it isn't easy to be a gay couple in Lima. My daughter means everything to me and I know nearly ever big fight she has ever been in has been to defend Brittany and what they share."

There's a break. He lets the thought sink in before continuing. _Deep breaths, _the pianist takes as many as she can. Her world feels like it is closing in.

"Santana doesn't do that much anymore. She hasn't, since you helped them get together."

Quinn makes a non-committal noise. Nick doesn't bother to correct her because she is exactly like Santana, so afraid of being noticed as a truly good person. God forbid that that might make them seem soft and kind. Nevertheless, they were in the examination room for a reason. They were alone with syringes, bandages and the truth. Nick stands up and sits on the other side of the blonde. He whistles for a moment before speaking again. This time he is reflective and firm, forcing Quinn the pay some sort of attention.

"The thing is I think my daughter fought because what other people said, affected her a lot more than she was ready to admit. Maybe it was because she wasn't ready for the world to know or maybe it was because she hadn't come to terms completely with her feelings… but I just don't want you to have to go through this as well."

Nick's voice tapers off as he rearranges his stethoscope around his neck. The motion is completely useless and unnecessary but somehow helpful. It gives the feeling as if the spotlight wasn't on Quinn, giving her the freedom to explore her own thoughts. However, the way the blonde is silent worries both men a little because they've said all they can and it seems to have the opposite reaction to what they were aiming for. They're afraid to make things worse, remembering that teenagers weren't supposed to be this advanced. The men realize that they may have forgotten the fact that certain wisdom only came with a decade more of living out in the world. Like for a lot of other people Quinn's mature features, tired knowing eyes and graceful stance might have blinded them. They forget that she's only eighteen. Leroy rubs his eyes, deciding to try one more time. After all they've come this far.

"What Nick is trying to say, is that it is ok to feel a bit unsure or even ashamed as long as you're honest about it. And once you acknowledge, it you can get to that point of acceptance about yourself and the situation. You're not betraying Rachel or anyone else by feeling a little bit unsure about this…"

/

The opening clicks of the doors eventually sound in the waiting room and all at once every one stands. They clear a path for Judy and Rachel to walk to over. On the other end, Quinn slowly shuffles out behind Leroy and Nick. The singer supposes that that should have been the first sign that something wasn't right because her girlfriend was far to confident and self assured to move around like that. The person that came out of those doors was meek and the brunette's stomach sinks. Rooted to her position, she classifies the other changes with an intense focus. Quinn's are slightly duller, murky with heavy thoughts as they flicker to the floor every now and then. The blonde has a pained smile crafted as she nods to their friends and receives a multitude of hugs and good wishes. She's so good at deceiving others that it would be easy for Rachel, herself, to miss it if she wasn't paying attention. However, the fortunate thing is that Rachel Berry _always_ has Quinn Fabray center stage in her world, so _she'll notice and love every trait…every change._

The brunette gaze includes Santana and Brittany when they go to hug their captain. Brittany energetically gives, what Rachel suspects are one of the tightest hugs ever. And while this happens, Santana just shares a whispered conversation with her friend. A genuine laugh escapes Quinn, for just a second. And Rachel figures out that Brittany isn't 100% as bouncy as usual and that as soon as the pianist turns around to reassure someone else, Santana's lips are pursed. The Latina's face is clouded with concern. Somehow they see through the façade as well.

Soon enough there's nobody left to intercept the two girls anymore. Quinn stands at one end and Rachel on the other. Their friends and family watch with anticipation. What they get, is slightly below that of what they expect. Rachel does run and jump into her girlfriend's arms. Instead, she's moving one step at a time, staring straight into Quinn's eyes. The closer she gets, the slightly more honest the blonde's smile becomes. The singer feels so grateful to be the one that can bring that out. Her arms go around the pianist's waist and swiftly bring their bodies together in a crushing hug. Quinn closes her eyes at the contact, as a sense of calm and relief flows through her being. She's still lost from her conversation with Leroy and Nick but Rachel is her constant, her checkpoint that gives her a perfect indication of where she wants to be.

Over the blonde's shoulder the diva has accusing eyes directed towards her father. There is only one sentiment. _What did you do? _Leroy looks uncomfortable but for the most part he does not give in to his daughter's intimidation. He takes a step closer to the girls placing a hand on Rachel's shoulder. His eyes are soft but carry a warning about the hours ahead.

"Rachel, I think you should stay with Quinn tonight, just to take of her. Remember she's allowed to sleep but you should wake her up every 2-3 hours tonight."

Judy rubs the back of both girls encouragingly. She had already spoken with Hiram. Both parents agreed that keeping the two apart tonight seemed like an unnecessarily cruel thing to do. Above that however is the fact that they're sure their edicts won't mean much. Quinn knows how to pick the lock to Rachel's bedroom window and the singer can charm her way into the Fabray home. Astounding as it is, Judy already has a future in mind where Rachel Berry is her daughter in law and as a result, she is unable to deny the singer anything. She loves the conversations they have in the alcove with tea when Quinn is out for softball training and the cooking lessons the brunette so enthusiastically provides.

Rachel and Quinn are frozen for the same reason, the concept of keeping secrets. For the first time, the blonde realizes how hard it is going to be to keep her confusing feelings away from her girlfriend. She's alarmed by the fact that now, there is something that she's afraid to tell Rachel, hoping that this relationship would be different and perhaps open. The blonde can acknowledge that this time it is her own fault. She is worried about how Rachel might think of her, once she finds out that her girlfriend isn't as strong as she thought. Quinn clenches her trembling hands, hating the mysterious turmoil. Rachel on the other hand contemplates her plans. Before all of this, she was going to tell Quinn about Julliard and accept the early admissions offer. Now with even the slightest taste of not having her girlfriend around, she can't do it anymore. She won't. So the choice is made in her mind, it's New York with Quinn Fabray or no New York at all. Deciding is the easy part but figuring out how to tell the pianist is terrifying.

/

Rachel closes the mahogany door softly behind her as she follows Quinn into her room. The blonde touches the surface of everything in the room with a distant gaze. Her hands are rearranging the odd object and then changing their mind again. She looks like a visitor in her own room. Rachel's heart constricts. The pianist eventually takes something out of her study drawers. It is clutched tightly between her slender fingers as she stares so intently. Slowly Rachel makes her way to Quinn as if approaching a wounded animal, kind, soothing and reassuring. If the blonde realizes the closing distance she doesn't acknowledge it, choosing the close her eyes and lean her head back instead.

Small hands enclose pale ones and tentatively pry the grip apart. A breath catches and the singer feels moisture well up in her eyes. The object was a photograph of a far younger Quinn laughing on the shoulder of her father. Rachel has no idea how to respond correctly. Instead of rushing she hugs the blonde from behind. Each shudder reverberate through both of them and it feels like they're sharing the burden. The singer is surprised, wondering why she hasn't considered that before. She finally understands why it is so hard to breathe, why she can't relax and why she's still so worried about Quinn Lucy Fabray. It's been gnawing at the edge of her mind ever since that first punch and the frantic hazel eyes that accompanied it.

Rachel clears her throat and tightens her hold around the pianist instinctively.

"Quinn, about what those girls said – "

"It nothing."

Quinn interrupts quickly. It sounds defensive and suspiciously like an attempt to convince herself more. Still, adamant in her denial, the blonde's shakes head and continues to push the words out in that hollow raspy tone. The statement feels as if it was made on a production line, generic and so many mistakes away from being authentic. The first flaw is the stumbles in speech and the second is the twitch that follows each lie.

"They… just don't understand. Rachel, I'm fine. I knew that not everyone could accept this, us."

And with this, Quinn brings her hands to the singer's clasped ones on her waist and moves out of it. She walks to the bin next to her desk and perhaps just a little to viscously scrunches the photograph and throws it away. The singer watches sadly and is about to start.

"Quinn…"

The pianist tries to rub the tension from her face. She shakes her head desperately. When she looks up, Rachel thinks it is heartbreakingly because Quinn has figured everything out. It is just that she doesn't like herself at the moment. She just hates the fact that she feels this way and saying it out loud might maybe it more real. Her plea is barely audible.

"Rachel please don't…"

The singer pauses. She stops trying to move close and holds her hands up in surrender. She sees the emotions flash across her girlfriend's face. Rachel isn't disappointed in the blonde. Quinn didn't grow up in a gay household or have to deal with the taunts and derogatory terms that came with it. In fact, the blonde had been taking the whole relationship in stride. Steps that were big and identity changing were minimalized to feel natural. Rachel knows that it might have been for her benefit but now perhaps everything was catching up to Quinn. Strange as it was the maturity of McKinley sheltered her from realizing the true nature of their relationship. It made them forget that with the blonde's background, she _should_ have had a little more trouble adjusting to the idea.

Quinn looks up and a tear rolls down her cheek. She brokenly tries to say.

"We didn't do anything wrong."

Rachel wants to give her girlfriend space so she grips the edge of the desk she's leaning on, fighting her urge to comfort. She meets watery hazel eyes and nods. Quinn drops and slides down on the wall. She's next to the familiar drunken symbol and staring hopelessly. She repeats the statement to herself.

"We're not doing anything wrong."

And that is the breaking point. The singer moves from her position to be next to Quinn. Rachel is simply swayed by the loneliness reflected in the blonde's voice. She forgets about the notion of patience time and space because the point of being together was that neither would ever feel alone anymore. The point of being together is so that they can deal with problems together and so that love could protect them from the harsher things that happen in life. The diva warps her arms around the pianist and tugs lightly so that the blonde's head lands on her shoulder. This time, _she's the one _rocking them back and forth with a _profound understanding. _She whispers the reassurances into light soft hair.

"I know I know…it's alright, you _are _allowed to have trouble with this. I'm never going to leave."

The control breaks and Quinn lets herself feel weak. Worry, guilt and anger flow through her mind and she cries at the injustice of it all. However after a certain time in Rachel's embrace sobs turn to smaller heaves, then hiccups and is eventually capped by quiet sniffles. _She likes girls. No, correction, she likes Rachel Berry and maybe, just maybe that was okay._

/

After a while, Quinn looks at the girl beside her. It takes less than a second but she's in awe. Rachel has her eyes closed and plump lips slightly parted. She too has tears running down her cheeks and the blonde melts. She knows exactly why. It is the same reason the singer didn't want to let go on the field and why small tan hands so tentatively trace the fresh cuts and bruises on pale skin. Rachel needs to show and remind herself that Quinn is safe and healthy, _because she cares that much. _

The blonde shifts and lifts her head, placing the sweetest kiss on the singer. The contact causes brown eyes to slowly open. There are questions in her eyes, but Quinn refuses to _think _anymore. She lets their emotions guide their actions, deepening the kiss. Her tongue begs for entrance and when it gets it, wastes no time. Rachel tries to pull away, afraid of hurting the taller girl but Quinn doesn't let her. She slides a hand behind the singer's neck and another around the waist and somehow the positions are reversed. She's the one holding them together again. It's barely noticeable but Rachel is lifted onto a large bed.

They land with a soft impact. Quinn sits on her knees, which are on either side of the singer's hips. They stay in that position, just looking at each other. The blonde berates herself, how she could ever feel bad about this, _Rachel? _The brunette thinks about how Quinn will take it when she refuses Julliard and that she loves her enough to stay. It is so silent that they can hear it when their breathing syncs up. At that moment, the girls come to the simultaneous decision to _stop making things so complicated. _Rachel listens to the part of her brain that tells her she's to run her hands along the curves and planes of her girlfriend's body. Quinn gives into the desire to show the singer and herself, that sex doesn't have to be a regret. It can coexist with love. It _can be extraordinary…_

So as if they were simply puppets to an unknown force, Rachel sits up slightly to remove her t-shirt. Quinn is stock still, trying to keep her eyes held with the brunette's. This causes the shorter girl to smile and raise her eyebrows. She teasingly runs her hands over the pale clenched fists and ever so slowly undoes the clasp to her bra. The pink material falls down to her stomach. This time, Quinn has to bite her bottom lip, as her breathing becomes heavier. She's not sure just how much willpower she has left. She knows that actions speak louder than words but because of their experience in this area she won't let herself do anything without verbal permission. Rachel has to be ready and tonight she finally is. The fact that hazel eyes and talented hands haven't wandered is a testament to the strength of their devotion.

Rachel tugs the collar of Quinn's softball uniform and tugs the blonde forward. She places a patient kiss on the pianist's cheek and whispers.

"I love you, Quinn. I want this. _Please."_

The blonde might be the captain of the softball team, honor roll student and an ex-cheerleader, but when she lets herself _look _down, she's totally incapable of feeling calm and collected. There's no such thing as universal perfection, but Rachel Berry is Quinn's special brand of it. The pianist won't even try to think about the chance of something greater, _because from this moment on, there is no such thing. _Her girlfriend's tan skin appears to be smooth with the occasional characteristic freckle. It makes Quinn want to map all the made up constellations with her lips, finding the ending, _the last one,_ in a surprise location. Because hey? The journey is half the fun.

So with trembling hands she's actually clumsy as she tries to undo the buttons of her baseball vest. The first takes a little longer than it should, whilst the second gets caught along the edge of the opening. Soon enough she feels warmth around her hands, steadying her actions. Soft fingertips ease her limbs away from the task and to her side. There's a rustle in the background as hers shirt comes undone and is slid tantalizingly off her shoulders. Opposite her, brown eyes glitter, communicating want, need and _love._

Quinn stops the hands as they reach for her bra clasp. She smiles gently and decides to say good riddance to the last barrier of their top halves, herself. The white cotton is tossed to some dark corner of the room, to be forgotten for the coming hours.

Rachel's mouth falls open. She's always known that her girlfriend was the prettiest girl but perhaps now she gets to understand a secret meaning. One that only she's allowed to see, because whilst Quinn is objectively beautiful with her high cheekbones, porcelain skin and striking eyes, it's not what fuels the singer's attention. Magazines paint pictures of conventional and highly sought after attractiveness. The blonde exhibits all of those. However, Rachel Berry is undoubtedly focused on the fact that Quinn has an outie instead of an innie. There's faint stretchmark along the bottom of the blonde's toned abdomen that speaks of hardship, resilience and the ability to create something special. In the future, the singer will always pepper those lines with kisses. She'll be in awe at the possibility or probability that one day such marks could signal the appearance of their child. And the last thing was that Quinn's ribcage on one side is slightly more arched than the other. The singer notices only because she this close. It is the combination of all these small traits and imperfections that make her choke with the realization that she might be the luckiest person on earth.

Quinn starts to lean their bodies back onto the bed, gasping when the skin of their breasts touch. They're both wide-eyed at the deliciousness of the sensation causing them to freeze momentarily. The pianist remembers Puck's heavy clothed chest scratching against her own and it serves to remind her that Rachel is so different. She is a purpose and not a distraction. The singer is a combination of soft caring and passion as her fingers dance reassuringly around Quinn's wrist and her legs trail the bare skin of the back of her girlfriend's right calf. It occurs to the ex-cheerleader that even if she has more experience, she's not the one leading this expedition.

Rachel's arms slide around Quinn's neck and with a second of waiting, crashes their lips together. They try to argue about who loves the other more with their mouths. Soft nips are placed on plump lips and pale hands unconsciously go to muss up luscious dark hair. Quinn marvels later that maybe she's always liked the diva _wild._ Both are victors as they are left breathless and unrepentant at the sight of smudged makeup and swollen lips. And kisses move down the column of Rachel's neck, the blonde slides her hand up the singer's stomach brushing the undersides of the brunette's breasts…Rachel's whole body arches upwards as a moan slides out.

Suddenly both girls are worried about their endurance capacity because all at once their vision is hazy and thighs are clinching. Tonight they're both novices, trying to learn a complicated lesson.

The blonde delicately grazes the back of her hand up and around a perky mound. Pulling back, she makes sure she can see every reaction as she turns her hand and cup it instead. Her thumb brushes across stiff nipples and lightly massages with the rest of her palm. Rachel feels the electricity from that point to her toes as she squirms. They're in so much contact but anticipation for something more pools in her stomach. She wants to yell and growl at the fact that Quinn is so _thorough_ with everything she puts her mind to. At the same time she's so grateful. Her mind is swimming and all she actually remembers controlling is the tightness with which her hands held the blonde's waist. It would surely leave a mark…_hers. _

Teeth lightly bite at the singer's peak, eliciting a squeak. The quick flash of pressure is like lightening, making Rachel feel hot and completely undone. She doesn't know if she wants more or less. But the good thing about the first time is that you get to discover the answer for yourself. Quinn's wet mouth turns soothing as a determined tongue laves and circles the area, flicking, pressing and tugging. She's drunk on the taste. Never one to miss any small detail, the pianist makes sure that she loves bilaterally. Her affections switch to the other breast and are strangely proud when just her warmth breath causes a needy sound. She plays a song with her fingers over the singer's sides when she descends, praying that she deserves this and is Rachel's best choice. Because, if she isn't? Right now, she's not sure if her heart and body will let her stop.

Rachel's hands tighten and she keeps whispering revelations into pale ears. _I love you…. Please don't tease…More…_And somehow in the midst of that she'll push back and hold their forehead together. Without words she'll tell Quinn that she can't imagine doing this with anyone else.

The reassurance is something that the pianist needs, like a lock and key. A grateful tear slips down her cheeks and jaw. Quinn gets up and off the bed. For a brief second, Rachel panics wondering what she did wrong. The blonde refuses to let her think that for long because she leans over from her standing position to give a long languid kiss. Then as she steps back, she basks in the almost palpable touch of lustful chocolate eyes as she pushes down the sports short and spanks revealing lean muscular legs. Rachel feels disarmed, her only thought is to sit up and try to get closer. She wants to know how white cotton panties can seem so innocent and sexily evil at the same time.

Quinn moves back to the bed. She's very self-conscious about her scars and blemishes but Rachel's face speaks nothing of that. The blonde wonders if her girlfriend even sees them and if she does, maybe she didn't care, because here, Quinn feels like the prettiest girl and nothing like the irresponsible teenager that got knocked up at sixteen. She longs to show the singer something similar. Rachel was better than models and other conventional male fantasies because her emotion overpowers and she smiles brighter than the sun.

Pale fingers travels to the waistband of the diva's skirt, making patterns along the edge, _under and over. _Rachel grabs then and leads them to the button at the side. The light material glides down surprisingly long legs and fall to the foot of the bed.

Quinn's breath catches and she can feel her cheeks heat up. Her hands hesitate, just hovering above the surface of the singer's calf. The blonde has no idea where to start because she'd like to cover and devote herself to every part of the diva. Quinn feels almost inadequate because how is someone supposed to love someone so flawless. Biting her bottom lip she sits back on her hunches on the end of the bed, _contemplating. _And like all events in her life so far, Rachel is a catalyst. The brunette has no idea what she wants but she knows that it involves contact. She sits up and holds her girlfriend in a tight embrace. Both of their eyes shut and they lets themselves relax and breathe in each other. Quinn smells of lilac, fresh grass and dirt from the softball game. Rachel finds it refreshing.

The brunette, on the other hand, carries the scent of cookies and cinnamon. By now the blonde has stopped questioning her girlfriend's perpetual baking, she's learned to love chocolate chip cookies over bacon. She's learned how to make Santana's sweet tooth jealous during lunchtime breaks. Small tan hands trail up and down her back. Somehow it's all right that tonight isn't as smooth as it would be for two lifetime lovers, because, _this_ is their beginning.

Quinn _can do this. _She brings them both back down onto the bed and starts from the toes. She traces the patterned veins up the singer's foot. The action tickles causing the singer's toes to curl and squirm. Faint giggles float around the room. And with a light shake of amusement the blonde continues to move up. Rachel is leant on her elbows as she watches everything with vested interest. The higher those pale hands travel the darker her eyes get. They both swallow purposefully when their gaze meet.

Slowly a low moan fills the room. Neither looks down but they can both feel it. Quinn moves her fingers back and forth against the wet barrier of Rachel's panties, feeling the singer shift underneath. It feels as if all the warmth in the brunette's body gets concentrated to that one region and excitement spreads through her veins. Without permission her body starts to move on it's own accord. She feels herself rub, slide and grind against talented pale fingers, surprising even herself with each gasp and growl that escapes.

It's amazing and torturous at the same time. However above all, _it isn't enough…and they both know it. _

Quinn stops and takes her hand away to grip the singer's sides where shapely hipbones provide the background for pink cotton panties. The blonde hooks her fingers around the waistband, lowering her head. Their connection is only broken when there's no other choice. So when Quinn peepers light kisses on the diva's abdomen and then along the oh-so-sensitive areas of Rachel's inner thighs, the pianist focuses the taste and quivering muscles. The brunette focuses on the ceiling hoping and dreading the moment where the teasing stops. Because the blonde's lips lead the pathways down, Rachel barely notices that she's bare until the cold air meets her core. She's not afraid this time.

Slender fingers trace her folds, exploring the borders and dips. She marvels at the fact that the skin is so _soft, pliant and willing. _Quinn breathes deeply to try and control her heart rate but it has the opposite effect. Rachel's scent hit her nostrils and before she knows it her mind is swimming. Her finger's press harder, finding the singer's slit. The singer's body arches up. She circles the stiff nub, coaxing whines and guttural noises out of the diva. It's so confusing because Quinn can't separate her own voice in all of this. Her throat is already dry as if she's been doing this for hours. Her body speaks the same story. Wetness coats her thighs making every movement pleasurable. Goosebumps appear in a trail down her back. The blonde is quite sure that she's ready to come without any help. _All the singer has to do is look her way._

There's small competitive, strong and proud part of her personality refuses to let this happen. She wants Rachel to feel it first. She takes a last moment to thank the higher powers for giving her this before circling the singer's entrance with her index finger. Her eyes widen with Rachel's, reveling in rapidly forming memories. The singer takes a series of long deep breaths, causing her chest to heave. Quinn tries not to be distracted or mesmerized because it is all too easy. Instead her free hand goes to cup her girlfriend's face. Even in the midst of this, Rachel instinctively pushes her face further into the touch. The diva turns her head placing a quick kiss to the blonde's hand before nodding.

So with held eyes, Quinn slips the tip of her index finger in. Rachel's thighs clamp together, however this time it isn't in alarm. This time it is in surprise at the strange pleasure. The blonde patiently waits for her to adjust. And perhaps she's a little too patient because when she catches herself, Rachel is twisting underneath with a hurried need. Leaning down she kisses the diva's forehead, as she pushes. There's a moment where she feels the resistance of Rachel's first time. For a moment she's literally the hero knocking at the kingdom's gate. It sound farfetched but the brunette looks at her as she were a hero, _hers. _

The blonde keeps her lips on the diva's forehead as she places pressure and pushes through. The singer freezes for a moment, a strangled sound slipping out. Her muscles contract impulsively at the intrusion.

"I'm sorry. Rachel are you ok?"

Quinn's worried tone sounds out. She torn because it is a necessary pain, and she doesn't know how to convince Rachel that it does get better without actually showing her. The singer understands all the thoughts that were playing out in her girlfriend mind. She shakes her head furiously and squeezes Quinn's side.

"I'm fine. Just let me get used to it…And Quinn?"

The blonde looks up.

"I love you."

The confession is whispered naturally. An unshakeable innocent grin appears on the pianist's face as she nods. Hazel eyes reciprocate the sentiment because her vocal cords don't really work right now. She stays keeps her position.

At first, any movement is unnerving. However, soon enough, as Rachel starts to shift on her own, the weirdness becomes agreeable. Quinn watches the wide-eyed innocence that the actions bring to Rachel's features. The pianist concentrates all her attention on just being there for her girlfriend because she's somehow vindicated by the fact that there is a complete lack of fear in those chocolate eyes. The only visual changes are tightly shut eyes stemming from the desire to fully immerse oneself in something new and rapidly building ecstasy.

Then Rachel places her hand over the blonde's and nods. She can feel her own heat and moisture and it makes her wonder. Her eyes open and latch onto bright hazel orbs. They're only telling her one thing… _I love you…_Slowly but surely they their limbs together. _Harder…Faster…_

Quinn is whispering adorations, letting her words encompass the room. It propels the singer forward and somehow she reaches a point where she suddenly grips the pale wrist tightly.

"I don't know what this is…It feels _so good… So close…please?_"

Rachel's response is unintelligible but the pianist understands. It finally hits her how much trust is in this moment. In her mind, there's some sort of grand change happening as she gratefully assumes the role of Rachel Berry's first. _She so desperately hopes that she's Rachel Berry's only. _It's selfish and she doesn't care. A few more strokes, Rachel gets closer to that bliss point. _Wait for it. Her mind swims. _

_And then, she's there. _Electricity floods through every cell. Tears slip down tan cheeks as she rides the wave out. She never fathomed it could feel like this. As if she's discovering her body for the first time. After so many taunts, after so many romantic fumbles, Rachel had started to wonder if her only love would be the Broadway stage. It isn't and half of it is because whilst music is her passion, Quinn Fabray is her heart and conscience. She just didn't know it back then.

So with that she sets out to show Quinn the same. With surprising strength Rachel flips them over and she's on top looking top. The pianist chuckles as she relaxes her wrists in the singer's grips. Quinn Lucy Fabray is submitting. The girls explore all the possibilities throughout the night. Somehow every second is cleansing. Because that night… in every _single one _of the softball player's touches, she's repeating the mantra _I'm ok, I'm here, _trying to erase any lingering fears or panic in Rachel from the fight. She's telling her girlfriend that she's not going anywhere anytime soon.

That night…_every single one_ of Rachel's kisses and gazes communicate the depth of their feelings and most importantly that despite the world, _they're not doing anything wrong._ She is trying to tell the blonde that _love is never wrong._

And the thing is, by the end of the night, they bot_h finally _believe…

/

Till next time. And yay the long-winded story continues. I have to admit that is my first time writing anything of the M area so let me know if I did ok or should just give up now….or if you actually liked it =)


	22. Chapter 22 Nationals & the Morning After

Chapter 22 – Nationals and the Morning After

Hi guys. So FINALLY had enough downtime to write the chapter. Universities just suck your will to live away after all the study. Anyways I hope you like it and still remember where the last chapter left off. My bad, about the wait. Oh and the songs featured in this chapter are Forever by Ben Harper, Gravity happens by Kate Voegele and Bullet by Mat Kearney, in that order. =)

Shoutouts:

To ParadoxTriceratops – Thanks for taking the time to reread the chapters. I think you just gave the hugest compliment for any faberry writer by leveling this with I'll be and SHAFD. I doubt I deserve it bu thanks so much anyway!

To DenabCitadel – my mind is open for sharing. XD So you're most certainly welcome.

To Funvince – Rachel is most definitely unreasonable but I'm hoping to explain it a little in this and the next chapter.

To Phoebex13 – Haha no no I would never put Quinn in a wheelchair, no worries and hey epic rant all you want just message it along. I find that it's a great stress reliever. =) My fictional characters are grateful that you care so much for their future.

To S8105 – I finally did update again. I'd like to say the wait was worth it but you can judge and tell me later, yeah? =D

Well I'll let you guys go onto the fic. Apologies for any errors, operating on very little sleep these days.

/

Rachel wakes up to a melodious piano, an honest voice and the dancing warmth of the sun's rays on her cheeks. Her muscles carry a light ache that only comes with complete exhaustion and use. Cheeks flush with red as the memories of the previous night revisit her consciousness. Curling her toes, she feels the ghostlike remnants lingering on her skin, beaming at the ceiling. As her eyes close, she manages to focus on Quinn's voice. She revels in the sleep crackled qualities that cause the pianist to break on some of the tougher notes of whatever she's trying to sing. Somehow in those moments, Rachel tries not to feel too proud at the way she could make that voice moan in high tones and growl in low ones. She loves that the blonde can't seem to hide the truth in her music.

Peeking with one eye closed she takes a long glance. Sleep tousled blonde hair is _just _messily tucked into a loose ponytail. Every now and then Quinn would hum something experimentally. Her eyebrows would furrow with determination as she tried to discern the imperfections. And just at the point where that expression is frozen a little too long and Rachel thinks about stepping in and helping out, a light bulb would turn on. The pianist would lift her head up suddenly in thought, as a sweet smile of triumph slips over her features. She would grab a nearby pencil, quickly scribbling down her thoughts. And when she finishes, the writing utensil is slid in behind her ear. In her haste, perhaps she's a little careless with the positioning because it falls down, bouncing over the ivory keys. Pause. There's a break and then, all of sudden, there'd be a _clumsy flurry_ of activity to pick it up. The reaction is greater than the mistake itself, but Rachel just finds it charming the way Quinn overcompensates. She is warmed by the fact that in these moments, Quinn is so obviously…._uncool and dorky._

In the end it is probably a by-product of the early morning, but it is also something that only Rachel gets to see. The brunette thinks that everyone else should be jealous. How could they not? A smile takes control of her features and she pulls the covers up to her nose to muffle the content sigh. Quinn freezes for a moment at the sound, causing the singer to quickly shut her eyes and curl under the coverings. Like a child guilty of staying up, she's pretending to be asleep. The pianist turns around, glancing at the girl on her bed. She can't help but raise her eyes at the picture. There's a slight mischievous grin tugging on the singer's lips as she unconsciously bites her bottom lip. The pianist wonders she should tell her girlfriend that _she knows._

Quinn doesn't. She ends up shaking her head to herself in amusement and gratitude because she never thought she'd have this feeling of peace_, love, people called it. _She hopes that Rachel will continue to remind her every day because she has already promised herself that she would do the same, regardless. So with that feeling in mind, the notes on her scrappy piece of paper come together. The blonde wants to say _something_ … _especially_ if Rachel is only listening _secretly_, because this way… if the pianist is asking too much, she won't have to deal with rejection. She just has to accept that her deepest desire is out there and that this time, she isn't the one to stand in the way of her own happiness.

Casting a glance at the shape hiding underneath her covers, her thoughts come tumbling out.

Not talking about a year

No not three or four

I don't want that kind of forever

In my life anymore

In the periphery, Rachel freezes. It's just the start of the song and it could still mean anything. But, somehow the words still pierce the brunette's mind. She can't help but think that Quinn sounds kind of sad, _the same way_ Judy does when she fiddles with her wedding ring.

Forever always seems

To be around when it begins

But forever never seems

To be around when it ends

The last key is held down. Quinn takes a deep breath, looking to her ceiling. She can feel the tears creeping up. She wonders if she should do this, to make herself _this vulnerable…_and then she hears another shuffle. She notices how the tissue box near her bedside, is now on the bed. The pianist smiles at the little scrap of white that disappears under the covers. There is a subsequent attempt to quietly blow. Somehow, the doubt disappears and she continues. Her words are strong but not loud. And as her fingers dance over the keys, her head is turned to look at the figure on her bed.

So give me your forever

Please your forever

Not a day less will do

From you

And just like that, _the truth is out. _Rachel's eyes widen as hand comes up to cover up her gasp. She wants to laugh, cry and shout yes to the girl baring her soul, but then the singer remembers that she's supposed to be asleep. And she understands why the blonde is _so bold_ in this moment. Quinn is still Quinn, trying to protect herself from being hurt. However on the flip side, the pianist is trying and she is _still asking._ Rachel understands that this is farther than anything the softball captain has ever done before, so she lets the idea of _forever_ warm her heart.

People spend so much time

Every single day

Running 'round all over town

Giving their forever away

_I'll never break up with you…_Rachel can't help it, but it is the first memory that jumps into her mind. She recalls just how much she had believed it, thinking that she would drag the tall footballer to New York without a care. Did she, Finn and the others really commit themselves so flamboyantly? And, is it such a terrible thing? Quinn's voice breaks through the confusion, like it has done for a while now. The further they get, the stronger the blonde feels _because this is right, this is real and this is where they want to be. _

But no not me

I won't let my forever roam

And now I hope I can find

My forever a home

By the end of the verse, Rachel calms down. Her heart speeds up at the hopeful look that appears over Quinn's expression. The way the blonde _almost_ stumbles over her words because they are so honest. Rachel realizes that this isn't an attack on her. It is just that Quinn had always been a little more guarded over her emotions. She figures out it doesn't matter to the pianist how many promises Rachel has given out in the past. _In fact_, Quinn envies the brunettes ability to open up. But, the only forever that matters is the one they're both thinking about now.

So give me your forever

Please your forever

Not a day less will do

From you

The moment slows. Quinn is singing to a supposedly sleeping room and Rachel has her smiling face buried in the pillow. Her body vibrates with joy and happiness.

So give me your forever

Please your forever

Not a day less will do

From you

The music stops and Quinn turns in her seat. She sits cross-legged piano bench contemplating how to proceed with the bump underneath the covers of her bed. In her overly large tee she leans her chin on her hands. There's an amazed expression as she sits there, realizing that she _truly didn't want anything. _She's got Rachel Berry all to herself. As Rachel shifts there's a movement reflected on the shiny surfaces of Quinn's laptop and metal stationary. The blonde chuckles brilliantly, covering her face with her hands. She's reminded about how she, herself, looked this morning, walking into her ensuite. The mirror had revealed an undeniably comfortable girl with blonde hair mussed and out of place. It was byproduct of love and passion colliding. Still, peeking from between her fingers, Quinn bites her lip. She decides to be old fashioned and accidentally bump into something on her desk. It makes a small noise, provides the perfect excuse for a certain brunette to fake a morning yawn and open her eyes.

"Good morning Quinn."

The pianist brushes a dark curl behind tan ears, expelling a light breath. The way the sunlight bounces off those hazel eyes, takes the singer's breath away and, staring at each other they both blush. They remember the events that got them here and the pianist grins.

"Good morning Rachel."

The words are whispered. Surrendering to her desires she leans down to kiss her girlfriend. In hindsight, she really should have known better because a small hand slips in between the space. Rachel's hand moves to cover the blonde's lips, holding the other girl back. She shakes her head profusely.

"Morning breath, Quinn"

The taller girl leans back and tilts her head, charmingly.

"Well, what if I don't care?"

Rachel laughs. She gets up to her knees so that they are level and almost at a snail's pace she leans in. Her brown eyes flicker to her girlfriend's mouth and back up. However, once again, right before contact her hand goes up to cover Quinn's lips. She smiles at the expectant look opposite her.

"It doesn't matter because I do."

With that she moves of the bed. Making the mistake of looking back, she sees Quinn's confused expression. It is a mistake because it sends her back to the bed. Quickly, Rachel slips her palm on the pianist's lips and presses a lingering kiss on the back of her own hand. Suddenly, hazel eyes are joyous, as this is a compromise. Quinn gets her morning kiss as strange as it is and Rachel avoids morning breath. Afterwards, the blonde lets the singer go to the bathroom and she decides to retrieve some breakfast for the both of them.

_They really don't relish the time apart._

/

Quinn walks back up the stairs, balancing jam, bagels and cups of juice in her arms. However, she almost drops all of those when she reaches her bedroom. From the doorjamb, she watches Rachel stretch. The movement causes the ruffled blouse from the night before to ride up, revealing a smooth stomach. The brunette takes a walk around the room, taking in all the knick-knacks that she's managed to miss before. She discovers that her girlfriend has an interesting collection of Lego and magazine collectables. But sooner rather than later, she reaches the object that commands the room: the black grand piano.

From the distance, the blonde lingers, curiosity rolling off her in waves as she watches her girlfriend. Rachel is tender and careful as she takes baby steps towards the instrument. There is a reverence in her eyes as her small hands hover over the keys, almost as if she was afraid to touch. It warms Quinn intrinsically as she swallows thickly; it hits her just how right their relationship was. This was the only thing left in between them to understand; the blonde's propensity for music and her _special _medium of communication. If Rachel worships it as much as Quinn does, then this was all going to end up all right. Come the fights, the irrational bouts of jealously and maybe even the hormonal pregnancy responses from carrying their first child, they could always show each other how to talk, how to listen and how to love through this one thing. Quinn puts down the plates on her office table. Silently, she slips in behind Rachel. Her hands land on the singer's shoulders, sliding down. She knows she is raising goose bumps and hairs as she hears the brunette's breath catch. The blonde's hands cover Rachel's bringing them slowly to the polished keys. At first, Rachel jerks in alarm and surprise, remembering the conversation she had with Judy. _The piano is her grandfather's. No one else is allowed near it…_

However, next to her left ear, Quinn's laughter is soft and reassuring.

"Rachel, it's ok, trust me."

In response, Rachel lets every bit of resistance drain from her body. Her eyes are wide-open as if not to miss a single detail when Quinn continues to bring her closer to the instrument. _Just wait for it…_And, there it is, the sound of a single note floods the room when the singer's fingers land on the surface. For some reason they both need to pause. The blonde breathes deeply into Rachel's hair, trying to remember every sensory texture of the moment. Her entire body feels magnetized to the smaller girl, unconsciously molding herself _closer and constantly realizes that it's not enough_. It's wonderful and intoxicating. She guides trembling tan hands left and right and soon enough the random keys string themselves into a light tune, _something familiar, something Quinn should have sung to Rachel at the very beginning… not Finn. _

She moves like sea breeze, swirling around me

The fragrance that she leaves hangs in the air

Soft like a whisper, she's calling me to her,

These eyes have seen the most beautiful dream

Rachel's eyes are closed and unconsciously they're swaying to the music. As the last word of the verse slips out the singer turns around in the blonde's embrace to stare at the thoughtful hazel eyes.

"Teach me how to play one of your songs."

Quinn smiles and takes Rachel's hand. The pianist guides them to the bench of the instrument and when they are comfortable, she brushes one strand of the singer's dark hair back. The blonde whispers.

"I'll teach you all of them…"

/

Turns out, _all of them_ only takes the afternoon because Rachel is an avid student and Quinn is a disturbingly patient teacher. The blonde shows the brunette some tricks that will help during the faster segments. She would do so by standing up and moving behind the singer. She'd lean forward, in a way that causes her short hair to tickle her girlfriend's cheek. Rachel would think that she could feel the heat from the blonde's chest only to yearn for that elusive contact. Quinn starts from the back because posture is important. She places small pressures on the small of the diva's back, moving both hands up to rest on shivering shoulders. The mischievous part of her would ask Rachel if the room was to cold, only to be met with furious blushing and a hollow glare. Quinn laughs in response. It's a delicate and innocent sound that almost makes the embarrassment all worth it for the singer. _Almost. _Instead, Rachel thinks that she'll get the blonde back later.

Though, thoughts of revenge become the last thing in her mind as pale fingers trail their way down the length of her arms. Quinn's hands are larger than Rachel's so they eclipse the singer's completely. And somehow loose strings connect them because Rachel's limbs follow the blonde's every movement. _Lift, shift and drag._ The brunette never recalls learning how to play piano to be so fun, so enchanting, _or maybe that's just the effect of her girlfriend. _Maybe Quinn's passion is infectious.

Eventually when Rachel manages to get a sequence right, she'd let out a squeal and a clap, only becoming more determined to learn more. At first the sound draws Judy worriedly up the stairs. But, when she gets to the landing, her hand covers her own in surprise and moisture builds behind her eyes. Slowly, she feels herself slide down the staircase railings as her legs temporary loose the strength to stand. Her daughter wears a look of pride and total adoration as she helps her girlfriend play a tune. There's no guardedness. In fact, whenever Rachel wants to give up and give in, Quinn would kiss her hand and show her again. Tears begin to stream down Judy's cheeks as a weight lifts on her heart. She knows that her child will never be alone. Her child has found somebody to share _everything _with. And for the first time in a while, Judy cries because of joy, _because no one else was supposed to touch that piano_. Five-year-old Quinn said so, twelve year old Quinn yelled it and fifteen year old Quinn glowered until the message was understood. But none of that matters now because eighteen-year-old Quinn is sharing it with Rachel Barbra Berry. Present Quinn chuckles when her girlfriend gets frustrated and celebrates the small victories.

Judy just sits there and sobs, glad that she's done some things right and glad that she was strong enough to save her daughter.

/

That night, Quinn has to say goodbye to Rachel because tomorrow was a school day. Afterwards, she collapses onto her bed with an unshakeable smile. A thin coarse material scratches her face causing her to lean up on her elbows and look down. It's a piece of lined paper neatly folded. For a second she's confused wondering if the singer left it behind by accident. However, curiosity wins out as she opens the note. The words make her heart beat _just that little bit faster _and her smile becomes _that little bit wider_ because it reads _in perfect cursive…_

"_Rachel Barbra Berry's Forever, 6/05/11."_

/

Rachel hums brightly almost skipping to her locker first thing in the next morning. She radiates happiness, so much so that it causes some students to shirk away and raise their eyebrows. However, some of that disappears when she senses a familiar friend shuffling beside her locker. Finn is looking to his shoes worriedly as he adjusts his backpack over his hunched soldiers. He tries to summon the courage to ask.

"So, Rach how did Quinn take it?"

For moment, the singer is confused by the question. It takes her a minute but she realizes what the footballer means and quickly takes the needed books out of her locker. She tries to usher the boy to a less public corner but Finn is at least a head taller than her and when he recognizes the look of guilt in her expression, he becomes impossible to move.

"You didn't tell her."

Rachel learns that disappointment is so much harder to bear when it's on the face of someone you know. She fidgets with her fingers and looks to the floor.

"I couldn't. I don't think you understand. This isn't a matter of me being overzealous. I don't… Let me put it this way, when we were together I had everything. I had the solos and the promising future, right?"

Taken aback by the turn in conversation, Finn mouth is open as he tries to comprehend the singer's train of thought.

"Uh sure Rach. We were doing well, I guess I really believed that we could have made it that time."

"_Exactly, Finn"_

Rachel rushes forward to grab both of the footballer's hands. Her eyes are shining with some sort of strange emotion and Finn thinks that she is almost glowing with happiness. He swallows hard in such presence, only managing to stutter.

"What?"

"I had _everything _that I thought I wanted but I _wasn't _happy. For the longest time, I couldn't figure out why. All I did was focus my attention on my academics and college application. I didn't want to consider the fact that it could be Quinn."

Rachel squeezes Finn's hands and takes a deep breath.

"Finn, I need you to understand. I don't want to make that same mistake again, because the decision _now _will affect the rest of my life! Going to Julliard and winning a Tony award…no wining _multiple_ Tony awards; it's _not better_ than a future with Quinn."

Finn mouth is slightly open and it takes a while for all the information to sink in. For a moment, he understands and is about to support her decision but then he considers one other person, Quinn. He realizes that the old version of him that dated the singer would have nodded dumbly and gone along with whatever Rachel wanted. However, this version thinks about how much effort a certain ex-cheerio puts into her schoolwork and extra-curriculars _just_ to get into a university in New York City. Finn remembers sitting with Quinn one afternoon to work through a song she had put together for Rachel and him to sing. The blonde had taken such care and time to make sure that the notes and composition was the _best possible_ to showcase the brunette's voice. Finn couldn't tell until Santana made a remark once, but Quinn had slowly been making the music a little more difficult each time, almost as if to try to test and improve her girlfriend's talents. _The dwarf gots surprisingly better_. After that, the footballer finally saw that Quinn was always going to get the diva to Julliard. And… it would hurt her so much if the singer didn't make it. The blonde would wither if the singer never made it to her dreams just _because_ she had decided to be selfish _just this once_ and go after love, go after Rachel. Finn clenches his jaw and his heart breaks a little for the pianist.

"Look Rach, I get it, ok I do. You love Quinn, anyone in the school; hell anyone in the world can see that. But you're wrong about this. Broadway and Julliard is your future, they're the things which make you, you. Just cos you're in a relationship, that shouldn't change. You're so convinced that it's better for everyone if you reject their early offer so that you can stay with Quinn, but, let's be honest… you're doing that for yourself."

Rachel gasps at the statement. She tries to remember the last time Finn had been this angry with her but she can't. Instead her mind stumbles over his words and the truth get harder to bury. She doesn't know it but slowly she takes shaking steps backwards, hoping to get away and escape the guilt. From a distance, Quinn comes out from Sue's office spotting her girlfriend and the footballer. The blonde wears a bright smile despite her strange and albeit frightening interaction with the coach because she has Rachel Berry's forever neatly folded into her wallet. Somehow, it's a better feeling of safety than her old cheerios armor. Walking towards Rachel, Quinn reads the downcast sad look in her girlfriend's brown eyes and the pulsing jugular vein on Finn's neck. She surges forward with concern but all she manages to hear is the tail end of their discussion.

"You're doing this because you're scared, even if you have no reason to be. I know that the girl that did everything to get me to join glee is in there, the one that is proud of herself. I miss her, you know. Stop using your girlfriend as an excuse to make a bad decision because I won't forgive you. You won't forgive you. Stop being a coward, Rach, it doesn't look right on you."

Finn finishes. His chest is heaving from the vehemence and before Rachel can think of a reply, Quinn's confused voice sounds behind the footballer.

"What's going on here?"

The blonde's eyes flicker between the two. Finn seems to glance at Rachel expecting an answer, but upon nothing the footballer huffs, readjusting the shoulder strap on bag and brusquely walking away. As he leaves he mutters the word 'nothing', refusing to even glance at Quinn. He couldn't be _around _the pianist with the knowledge that he has. The responsibility was already eating away at him. And if he's being honest, part of him is furious with Quinn for affecting Rachel the way she does. For the first time, their roles are reversed he can see everything and Quinn is blind. Finn is _so angry_ because the person that knows how to do this is depending on him even if she doesn't know it, and he has no idea how to fill those shoes. The thought of forcing somebody down a path that they may not like makes his stomach roll and he finally understands just what his blonde ex-girlfriend is: _courageous, graceful and fearless._

Only Rachel and Quinn are left in the halls, and the singer still refuses say anything, looking to the floor. Neither girl knows quite what to do. As the minutes pass, Rachel clumsily drops her stationary and books when her body shakes and the nerves take over. Quietly Quinn steps forward. The blonde is lost, worried and profoundly sad without knowing the reason why; but most importantly above all she wants to make the singer smile again. Rachel's smiles always make _her _world a little easier. So she uses her hand to bring her girlfriend's chin up and whispers.

"Are you ok? Why was Finn taking to you like that?"

Rachel looks into those bright hazel eyes, remembering the adorable puffiness that they carried yesterday morning. For a second she's torn. She looks to her locker where a certain acceptance letter is buried and then to Quinn. Her eyes well up and she pleads.

"I'm fine. Quinn, can we just pretend that you didn't hear any of that?"

The pianist winces at the desperation in Rachel's voice. Her hand that is holding the singer's chin up trembles slightly and she nods. The blonde swallows, holding out her hand instead. She ignores the part of her brain that tells her that something is wrong.

"Ok. Can I walk you to class, then?"

Rachel lets out a grateful breath interlacing their fingers. And as they walk down the halls she ducks her head to Quinn's shoulder, inhaling deeply. She tries to remember that this is what happiness smells like. Sometime down the road, they'll realize that they made a mistake here. Rachel Berry shouldn't have kept her secret and Quinn Fabray shouldn't have let it go so easily.

/

The choir room is buzzing with conversation and excited chattering about the upcoming National competition. Mr Schue has a hard job of organizing the group, after all this time the competition is in Chicago. The curly haired man taps the whiteboard with his pen slowly gaining the attention of his students.

"Thank you for being quiet guys! As we know Nationals is coming up in less than a week and it is time to get our song choices straight. But first, Brittany and Santana have some news for us."

The group looks to the two girls who walk up to the stage pinky bound. One skips whilst the other has a confident swagger. The dancer goes first.

"I got into Julliard through the dancing part, early entry!"

Almost instantly the room is loud with roaring congratulations as most move from their seat to give hugs and high fives. Rachel is frozen, she wonders if Quinn will ask. However all that happens is warmth that gradually encases her body. Pale arms have wrapped around the singer telling as a beautifully lilting voice tells her that it's alright; that her acceptance is also in the mail and probably only _little late. _The singer hates the bitter taste in her mouth as she nods falsely. Quinn thinks that this might have been the thing that was bothering her girl in the morning. From afar, Santana twists her body to look at the couple. Her smile fades at the sight because it is so _obvious _to her that Rachel chose not to confide in the blonde. The Latina can see her best friend getting hurt in this scenario as she continues to gaze, hollowly giving her good news to the other glee members; _she had gotten into NYU Law_. She hugs Finn, nods to Kelsey and pumps her fist with Puck, but mostly she just worries about the two girls by the side. However, before she has time to dwell on it, the music teacher interrupts.

"Ok. Sorry to break this up. Congratulations to Brittany and Santana by the way."

There's a round of cheers.

"Now back to Nationals. Now Quinn has already given me a fantastic idea for the solo, which Rachel can give us a run through of later. Right now all we need to focus on is the group number."

The group starts up again. One by one the voices grow louder and more confident. Pretty soon it flows as people give their input, criticisms and praises. The group of young adults learns that they work well together, that their friendship means everything to them and that they never want to lose this. As a result song is built around the idea. And this time there is no lead. Everyone has an equal role.

Everyone would then read the song that Quinn had sent Mr Schue a week earlier. They would think that it is slow, touching and very much the voice of New Directions; because when bad things happen, get up, be strong and with time you'll get through. Rachel carries the notes strongly, showing depth and vulnerability where appropriate. It's a unanimous decision to appoint her the solo. From the piano, the pianist smiles and claps in pride and support.

/

That afternoon, after dropping Rachel off at home, Quinn walks to her mailbox, holding her breath. She's repeated this routine for a week now with the results piling on her desk in to piles, accepted and rejected. As her hands reach to open the latch, she stops for a moment as the memory of Brittany and Santana flash into mind. They had gotten desired university offers already and it just makes her that much more nervous. The pianist waits a moment for bravery to strike before reaching again; coming out with five envelops, each stamped with a specific institutional seal. Automatically, she focuses on the most important ones.

_Cornell University – Dear Ms Quinn L Fabray_

_Thank you for your application but unfortunately we an unable to offer you a position in our medical school for the first semester, 2013. We hope to accommodate you in the second semester upon reassessment. _

Rereading the words, the pianist closes her eyes trying to stay calm. She tells herself that this is to be expected. Medicinal admissions were a very competitive and she had already gotten many offers from other prestigious universities. But most of all, she convinces herself that the next letter will be different. Opening the envelope is akin to walking up a mountain. After the first step it only gets harder. She nearly gives herself a paper-cut.

_Columbia University – Dear applicant_

_Unfortunately due to the volume of students entering this year, we regret to inform you that you have not made the cutoffs required. Please apply again at a later date and best of luck with your future studies._

Quinn feels herself clench as anxiety begins to flood her system. The odds kept decreasing and she's almost too scared to look at the last one. She wants to hide and run, but who would that help? Instead, Quinn does the mature thing like she's almost always done and soldiers on. She casts one last prayer and winces at the crinkling sound the paper makes. The blonde slides the letter out _so carefully_ as if she was afraid to offend the white material, _as if that would somehow affect the result_. It's stupid and nonsensical but logic can only get a person so far. Sometimes one needs the help of luck and superstition to move things along. An image of Rachel flashes into her mind and her resolve hardens.

_New York University – Dear Miss Quinn L Fabray_

_After careful review of your application and credential, I regret to inform you that we are unable to offer you a place in the Medical program entering class at New York University for the fall of 2013._

A passerby would not notice anything. All they would see was an unusually pretty girl clutching her letter as she stands reading them. Behind this, is a girl is trying to rebuild her walls, to keep away the sadness as she feels further and further away from the future that she so desperately wants and needs. The air has been taken away from her sails and it's taking all her strength not to collapse and slide pathetically down to the ground next to her mailbox. Quinn breathes hastily through her nose, trying to calm the screams in her mind. She can't hear much else and the words in the letters are seared into her mind. She knows she should move back inside where she can have her breakdown in the safety of her room and away of prying eyes but she can't move. Also her bedroom is her source of Rachel, from the brunette's drunken doodles on her wall to the smell in her sheets. Walking into that space with the papers in her hands felt like a violation, a contamination of sorts and she can't do it. _She won't._

For about half an hour she stands outside. Quinn can still barely comprehend that she will not be with Rachel Berry in the fall. Still, there's a hopeful part of her mind that works on the possibility of a long distance relationship, because the only thought keeping her sane. She thinks about the many ways of being there for the singer's first college production without physically being able to. Quinn thinks about placing live camcorder at the back of the theatre and video conversation filled with accolades and loving statements straight after. Santana and Brittany could help. The more time the blonde thinks about such solutions the more her hands stop shaking and slowly the iron fist squeezing her heart releases. She convinces herself that she'll fight for her future with Rachel.

_In the end, the only problem is that Quinn has never believed in long-distance relationships. _

/

That night, Rachel knocks on the Fabray house door. She steeled herself for the conversation that should have taken place weeks ago. She would tell Quinn about Julliard. Judy's a little surprised when she opens the door to the brunette. It is a school night after all. Still, the mother notices Rachel's nervous ticks and can understand how hard it was to come here. She wonders if the young singer knew about the college letters yet. Probably not, Judy thinks as she invites the girl in. A week ago, the mother had tried to urge her daughter to show her girlfriend the various acceptance letters to UCLA, Georgetown and Boston University.

However then, when she came home today, the sun was setting and unexpectedly her daughter was standing next to the mailbox with a catatonic stare. The way the wind had blown those short blonde strands into disarray made the mother wonder how long Quinn had been standing out there. She walked towards her little girl and felt a rush of protective worry upon the tear that slid down porcelain cheeks. Judy had to pry the letters from deadened hands. And as she continued to read one after the other, her stomach dropped. Immediately, she dropped her purse and groceries to bring her daughter into her arms, brushing her fingers comfortingly through soft hair, like how only a mother could.

Eventually, she whispers with a heavy voice and moist eyes.

"Oh Quinnie, I'm so sorry."

In the present, Rachel's voice jolts the mother from the memory.

"Judy, may I please see Quinn?"

The mother sighs, wiping her hands on her apron. She casts a pensive glance up the staircase to her daughter's closed bedroom door. Part of her wants to give Quinn a break and let her do the childish thing and run away from being hurt, yet the other knows that short term solutions could never last. She looks into the singer's expressive brown eyes, seeing nothing but concern and devotion. Judy makes a decision to trust in their relationship, hoping that they could find their piece of bliss in these hard times. The mother would hate it if the two girls were just another couple in the yearbook that wandered around like strangers in a ten-year reunion just because they couldn't survive college separation. She nods her assent, watching the small brunette climb up the staircase.

Rachel hovers outside of Quinn's bedroom, silently pushing the door open. The door and the floorboards make a slight creak and she is surprised that her girlfriend hadn't noticed. However as her eyes scan the room, she sees the reason why. The blonde was at the piano, with her forehead leant despondently against the front lacquered surface. She seemed to mutter to herself and the singer is about to walk in and interrupt but almost all of a sudden the softball player lifts her head up and her left hand starts to play a slow tune. It sounds familiar and when Quinn right hand starts to join in Rachel recognizes it.

It is the solo song that Quinn wrote for Nationals. For some reason it sounds slower and more haunting. The blonde barely notices anything because a layer of moisture covers her eyes that she tries to keep back. She can't see through the blur and right now she prefers it that way, it means she can't see the remnants of the singer from that morning. The blonde doesn't want to see the brunette's amendments on her music sheets and argyle cardigan on the piano top. There's a quiver in her voice as she tries to sing.

If your travels ever take you to sea

Then I'd say to you to dip in your feet

Pause. Quinn tries to breathe deeply through her mouth to avoid the blockage in her nose. Her eyes stay closed.

And if you battle the wind along the way

Then I'd tell you to challenge the waves

The last statement is sung with a bit of force as Quinn feels that familiar anger rise up. She remembers the amount of work she placed in her application and the hours of extra study.

It's a world of peculiar people

And places that look nothing like home

She shakes her head to the room. Her voice is getting higher and she's beginning to lose her control. She registers that she's allowed to feel sad, angry and cheated, so she lets it pour out. She stops trying to blink away her tears. And somehow she finds some clarity. This wasn't what she had in mind when she wrote the song but everything fits better now. She starts to understand as her own words start to heal her.

But it keeps turning - and turning even though

Gravity happens...

And we don't know it till after we've hit the ground

The world's spinning faster

Quinn's voice goes lower as if she's telling a secret and it draws Rachel in.

With each day that passes and each dashing hour

What am I to do? I've broken my parachute

So if gravity happens,

Pause. The pianist slowly opens her eyes and they're clear, bright almost.

Then I'll fasten wings to my shoes

Some strength returns to her voice as she pushes forward. Belief surges behind the lyrics and notes are played more purposely. She seems a little more like herself.

I have gathered that the moments that shaped me

Were the ones that have tested my faith

Quinn thinks about being kicked out and ostracized because of the pregnancy. Her fingers twitch when thinking about how hard it was to return to the Cheerios.

And all that matters is the courage they gave me

I fell down and my fears were erased

And it was true. For Quinn, it was only when she was stripped from everything that she knew or thought was important that she discovered something else, something good. Because it was only when she had no other option that she considered the glee club and began opening up a little to its members. She found a sister in Mercedes, a silent bodyguard in Mike and a confidante in Mr Schue. It felt good to have a family that actually cared about her and not just the achievements that she could generate.

'Cause in the wreckage of heartache and hindsight

A new beginning starts to unfold

And if you let it, it just might save your life

Rachel had been one of Quinn's unwelcome saviors back then. After the fiasco of telling Finn that it was not his baby, it let the blonde relax as the weight of the secret and the guilt was suffocating. Santana always marveled that the pianist was the happiest when she could tell the truth, only to remind her that they couldn't always play nice or they would lose their position on top.

Because gravity happens...

And we don't know it till after we've hit the ground

The world's spinning faster

With each day that passes and each dashing hour

What am I to do? I've broken my parachute

So if gravity happens, then I'll fasten wings to my shoes

It is barely perceptible but Quinn stops for a second and focuses herself before singing the next verse. Her voice is loud and strong, full of direction. Quinn decides that they could find a way to make this work, that college admissions wouldn't break them.

I'm not gonna let the world get me down, no

I got so much more to live for

And I'm starting right now

Rachel lips part in surprise. The blonde seems so in her element as her fingers dance across the keys and her voice breaks from emotion. The singer can feel it in every note and in that moment she realizes something. She figures out that she can't be the one to sing this song or at the very least she shouldn't. Quinn broken voice tells a story that encourages people to believe. It invites people to sing along and share in the feeling of hitting the bottom only to slowly stand again. And Rachel understands that she can't do that. This isn't her song to sing.

She wonders why Quinn didn't volunteer to perform it herself, when it obviously has such personal meaning. As Rachel thinks, the answers come to her. She remembers how the blonde told her that _you're going to be the one to carry us to Nationals_. At the time, the brunette had been preoccupied but now the singer catches what she had missed, Quinn's self-deprecating humor about her own role in glee. It shocks the diva because when she really thinks about it, the blonde almost never volunteers for a solo, taking the smallest parts without question. The pianist had a soft floating voice, true it wasn't a powerhouse but it was _good enough._ Rachel wants to show her that. So forgetting what she even came here for, she turns away and walks out the Fabray house, texting the New Directions for an emergency meeting.

Back in her room, Quinn never finds out that she had an audience. She finishes the song and instinct tells her to look up to her doorway. Nobody is there, but for some reason she just felt safer, happier and more comfortable. She passes it of as something strange and not Rachel's lingering scent.

Cause gravity happens...

And we don't know it till after we've hit the ground

The world's spinning faster

With each day that passes and each dashing hour

What am I to do? I've broken my parachute

So if gravity happens, then I'll fasten wings to my shoes

/

Later that night, tired and cranky glee club members fill Rachel Berry's bedroom, knowing that ignoring the text message would not work. All of them carry a sense of curiosity about the nature of the so-called SOS. So Puck makes himself comfortable on the singer's bed. Finn stares at his friend with slight irritation whilst Kelsey tries to keep him calm. Santana and Brittany settle on the one-seat sofa and Sam and Mercedes find a comfy spot on the rug. Artie is slower than the others because Mike and Tina are still contemplating the safest way to get his wheelchair up. Eventually everyone is settled even Lauren who has connected her laptop to the nearest power point.

"Good evening group. Thank you so much for coming. I know that it is late and that you all might have other pla–"

"Rachel! Stay on point. Blaine can only hold the reservation for so long and where's Quinn?"

Kurt interrupts Rachel. Santana is glad that he did so. It saves her from having to roll her eyes through one of the singer's tirades again. However, she _does_ sits up and actually lean forward in quiet concern, when the singer for the first time stumbles and murmurs her words.

"Right, um...Sorry. What I wanted was – No I mean I think Quinn should, um – "

"Berry!"

Santana has stood up and is now in front of the diva. Her piercing stare causes Rachel to stop, swallow and reassess her speech. She's so grateful that everyone gives her the moment to gather her senses though it probably had a lot to do with the Latina's glare. It reminds Rachel that Santana _is her friend_.

"I think that Quinn should take the solo."

Rachel manages to get out. She's met with surprise and silence. Finn seemed to sputter in confusion. Each person pinches themselves or shakes their head just to see if they heard right.

"Wait Rach, you want to give away your solo?"

The brunette cringes at the wording.

"No, I just think that I should step aside and let Quinn perform the song. She's really good and – "

"Now wait a minute!"

Mercedes voice comes out sharply. Sam tries to calm her down and get her attention but the girl pays no heed. There's a disgruntled manner in her actions as she untangles herself from the boy and attempts to stand up confrontationally. Everyone holds their breath, curious to see the battle of the two divas of the group.

"Why is Quinn getting the solo? She's not even the best singer. Don't tell me this is some freebie for dating Rachel."

Sam groans into his hands. He loved the darker girl but her competitive side takes a toll. Puck seems unmoved by the whole ruckus as he throws his tennis ball up to catch. He would never understand why everyone got so crazed over who got to sing. Kelsey, on the other hand, frowns to herself. She can't keep the disagreement and judgment out of her voice when she speaks, interrupting Mercedes.

"I'm sorry but didn't _you_ get the solo for Regionals?"

Santana couldn't help but smirk. The girl definitely had balls. The Latina questions whether Mercedes would sprain something or get whiplash and her had turned around to glare at the redhead.

"It was a duet and you're new. Keep out of this."

"Don't talk to her that way!"

Finn jumps in, catching the harshness of the tone. Kelsey places a hand on his chest and shakes her head resignedly as she takes out her phone. She spends a lot of time just sitting there and analyzing the interactions in the group. She can see that they are a real team prone to bouts of dysfunction and harsher than normal judging. The newest member can accept the negativity as long as in the end they prove to each other that they're still friends. Insanity, after all is just a part of the high school package.

Mercedes must feel bad for her remark because for a moment, her head is down cast before directing an apologetic glance to the redhead. It is easily accepted and she tries to rephrase her statement.

"Look, what I mean is Nationals is very important and whilst Quinn writes great music she has trouble with the notes that Rachel, Kurt and I can carry so easily…."

Kurt waves his hand frantically at hearing his name.

"Hey, keep me out of this. I'm all right with not doing the solo this time. Too much stress and wrinkles"

Mercedes turns around to her fashion able friend.

"What? Kurt, are you kidding me?"

The boy seems to shrug. Honestly he was surprised himself, that he didn't mind. He respects Rachel far too much to argue with her decision, knowing that it must have taken extraordinary measures for her to get to this conclusion to the first place. And he also believes that Quinn is an amazing person, deserving a chance to be heard. Mercedes shakes her head trying again, this time directing her statements to Rachel.

"Look Rachel I like you. You've gotten better at hiding the crazy but you don't just get to swap solos with your girlfriend just because you want to. If someone else is going to sing it, it should be – "

"What? You?"

Finn asks from the corner. Mercedes is taken aback. She manages to murmur a response.

"Maybe."

Suddenly there's a tension in the room and Finn seems unhappy with the opposition and Rachel has grown silent. For some reason the footballer is fiercely protective of his blonde ex-girlfriend and he just wants her to have something that wouldn't make her hate her youth. Quinn had so few good memories already. Rachel has frantic eyes, not expecting so many arguments against her idea. She didn't know how to explain it but she knew that she couldn't perform the song with as much impact, and maybe that you had to see to believe. Santana takes pity on the diva and steps in. She tries to reign in Snix who is just itching to rip into the disorganized group.

"Alright! Alright everyone gots step back."

The chatter quickly dies down and all eyes are on Santana. The girl is massaging her temples heavily and chanting to one hundred to drive the impatience from her tone. She knows that it is not conducive to cooperation. However the more she tries, she starts to wonder how Quinn did it, managing their motley crew. And _somehow_ the Latina admires her friend a little more than she did before. She thinks that maybe the pianist is a masochist built for leadership. Though during those moments that Santana takes to think she notices how Pucks seems to play puppeteer to one of the singer's pink teddy bears to cheer Rachel up. It isn't at all manly or good for his image but he wants his 'fellow Jew' to smile. The Latina sees how Tina and Kurt pull Mercedes to the side to calm her down. There's no judgment in their eyes as they at the end each give the chocolate-coloured girl hugs respectively. Finn, Kelsey and Sam try to act as wall flowers whilst Artie points out various mistakes in computer coding to Lauren. It's then that Santana understands why Quinn Fabray cares for the glee club enough to sort through their messes and squabbles. _They're so very much a family. _

So, softening her voice she turns to Mercedes.

"Wheezy sit your ass back down and listen to what others want. Gay Queen over there doesn't want the solo, you do and that's ok as long as you just say so."

Slow nods of agreement permeate the room. The Latina loses her neck before continuing, this time looking at everyone, slowly.

"Kelsey gets as much a say as any of us. She's proved herself and… if you can accept me, someone who likes to crunch out insults to each of you on a daily basis, then you can accept her. Does anyone gots a problem with that?"

A murmur of 'no" continues. Kelsey has looked up sharply in surprise. Her cheeks are reddening. And she tries to hide her gratitude behind her cool expression because it really isn't cool to care. Maybe it's because the redhead is so much like Quinn, but Santana can see through the exterior. She stops to give Kelsey a nod of acknowledgement and moves on. This time the Latina moves to stand next to the singer.

"Berry wants to give Q the solo. Now, I have no idea why and frankly I don't give a damn. _But, _Berry is Berry, and she's _not_ going to throw the competition for no reason."

Her last statement causes the room to quiet as each person considers the point. A soft voice comes from the corner.

"I trust Rachel"

Brittany says with conviction. Her blue eyes shine. She has straightened up on the chair and seems engaged. Most of the group is a little in awe when the dancer seems to awaken because the change is so distinct. Finn manages to ask.

"What?"

Brittany stares nearly each person down before shrugging. Her tone is sure, reeling off opinion as fact. It _works for her_, because she possesses a precision and intelligence that no one else has.

"Rachel is my friend and she is co-captain of the glee club. I trust her and you should too. Maybe she can see something in Quinn that we don't."

Everyone realizes that her points are valid and they only wonder how they've never seen it before. They trust Rachel and they respect Quinn. So maybe it was right; maybe _with a little shove_ they could experience the performance that moved the brunette singer so much. Finn, Sam and Brittany definitely to try. _They imagine it would be amazing… _

_/_

On the bus ride to Nationals, everyone has broken down to pairs rushing to their favourite seats, by the window, at the front or in the back. The group is so excited and can barely contain themselves. Some deal by arm wrestling across the plush seats. Others glue their faces to the window marveling in every little change in scenery and waving at the cars that drive busily past. Somewhere, towards the back corner is Rachel and Quinn. The brunette is leant into the blonde's slightly taller frame. Pale arms hold her waist in a protective embrace. It warms her heart and lets her rest. Rachel can turn her back to the nervous chatter in her brain and experience the moment. _They're going to Nationals. This is their chance, their year, and their time to win. _She focuses on the fact that she can feel her girlfriend's heartbeat and soft breathing that is in sync with hers.

Halfway between Ohio and Chicago, Quinn would notice that Rachel's grip is tighter than before. The blonde will see that the brunette isn't really composes, looking a bit lost and indecisive. In these moments, the singer feels guilt over Julliard, knowing that the deadline was the day after tonight. She has already told herself that she would try for later entry. The brunette is unsure about the surprise planned, wondering if she should tell the pianist that _she _was the one to sing the song, on the big stage. Rachel wonders if Quinn would even believe it, that the team had agreed and elected her the soloist for their final competition. Probably not. The blonde might even try to push it away offer, knowing that there are so many others that want the chance more. And that's one of the many reason why Rachel stays quiet simply burrowing deeper into the safety of the softball player's arms.

Late into the night, when nearly everyone is asleep, Quinn would lean her chin down on her girlfriend's soft dark hair. She would whisper softly, _reassuringly, and fondly…_

"Breathe Rachel. You can enchant anybody. You're the one that's going to carry us at Nationals."

/

"Alright guys, your turn is coming up. As soon as Sommerset High finishes their set, we're up. Move to your marks."

Mr Schue tries to herd the New Directions from the busy changing room to the stage. The group learns to laugh at his nervousness and the fact that he has tried to straighten his vest over twenty times. No one was impervious to the importance of this, their last chance to win Nationals. So, everyone in their haste hurries to try and complete their pre-performance rituals, all the while passing on encouragements down the line like a game of Chinese whispers. Quinn smiles at the picture and takes a second to remember it. She can feel her own heart pounding in her chest and she lets this feeling of complete confidence and bliss wash away the pain. Purely through music, she'll be able to put college admissions temporarily out of her mind.

The pianist holds out her hand in front of the brunette and tilts her head to the stage, already picturing her girlfriend captivating the audience with just one line. She's surprised because whilst Rachel does take the proffered hand she shakes her head lightly. Rachel places the microphone into the pianist hands and nods to the space behind her, where the audience's cheers are _so loud. _The singer steps into Quinn and tiptoes to place a soft, slow kiss on the blonde's cheek. The girls feel the contact through to their toes. _That,_ is another constant that they have found in their lives. The warmth and happiness doesn't diminish over time and it tells them they won't take ever get bored, tired or grow out of this love.

"Quinn. The rest of us talked about it and we think that you should sing the solo. Trust me, it's going to be better this way."

The pianist stays frozen, her confusion turns into surprise. Santana walks past the duo and contributes.

"We did agree Q."

A murmur of agreement follows and Puck comes over to give both girls a bear hug. Finn nods awkwardly and Tina and Mike enthusiastically give their thumbs up. The blonde's eyes flitter in between her friends and soon enough she's worried. It's probably because she's never considered this as an option or maybe there's a part of her that still thinks so little of herself but she goes to her girlfriend looks into those brown eyes. Her hands trace carefully checking the singer's face for tension, insanity, _something._

"What? Rachel, are you ok? I mean I know that you're nervous but trust me you have nothing to worr – "

"Quinn!"

Rachel interrupts, taking pale hands in hers and moving them away from her face and in between them. She's shy for some reason about this next part, felling very much like a voyeur.

"I heard you, you know."

There's a silent and Quinn bites her lip. She doesn't know what to say except for the fact that a part of her might have known. She remembers feeling that tingle that comes from being under the singer's gaze. Still she can't even enjoy the thought because she is reminded of the reason she had been playing _that song_. The pianist is reminded that for the first time, she's keeping a secret too. Rachel continues, her eyes are bright with awe and a sense of certainty.

"I heard you sing it in your room the other day and…god Quinn I didn't know what that song really meant until I heard you sing it. It was so sad and touching, I can't compete. And I won't, because _this_ is yours."

"But – "

The start of a rebuttal slips out. Rachel closes her eyes before taking them away from their group and to a hidden alcove close to the entryway to the stage. From this vantage point the person can see everything, from the stage managers trying to clear and set up the props to the balcony tiered audience. The singer turns Quinn around to the best-kept view. From behind the blonde, Rachel points to various landmarks and equipment. The pianist holds her breath at the sight. Her mouth goes dry and she begins to understand her girlfriend's fascination with this.

In the end, the brunette moves to stand in front of Quinn. She adjusts the wild blonde strands back into its place behind a glittering hairclip and smiles. Their hands are held and Rachel leans into the pianist. Their lips are less than a hairbreadth apart and she murmurs some familiar words.

"_Breathe Quinn. You can enchant everybody._ _You_ are going to be the one to carry us in Nationals"

The blonde looks down as she pulls back. Her eyes are shining with gratitude, nerves and a deep care for the girl who has her heart. And as Rachel moves to give her girlfriend a good luck kiss, she whispers.

"Quinn, you're the only one I'd _always_ step aside for."

/

The solo performance runs its course. The blonde plays the music flawlessly but perhaps more importantly; she's the most honest person the stage has seen in a while. Without the airs of knowing that one has talent and without a boisterous nature, she manages to entrance the crowd. People bleed with her during her troubles and trembling voice. And when she reaches the turning point, she's the dark horse that everyone wants to believe in. The glee club has their eyes and mouths wide in surprise, as they finally understand what Rachel Berry saw. For this family, the words bring to mind a common story and chapter in their life. They remember the trials that the pianist went through and her survival afterwards.

Puck fails to keep his trademark smirk in place as even his expression softens when he realizes that Quinn is all right, that he didn't actually tarnish the life of a good person. On the right, Kurt is on the edge of his makeshift seat holding a moist handkerchief. Mike wraps his arms around Tina as she tries to keep her sniffles under control. And Brittany is crying even if it ruins her makeup. From her side, Santana wears a protective glint towards the blonde on the piano. She thinks that her friend really has come a long way if she's ready to be this vulnerable to the outside world. The Latina smiles wistfully and shakes her head because this feels too much like a happy ending.

Rachel thought that maybe the second time wouldn't affect her as much. She's wrong because by the end of the song her hand covers her mouth to stop her gasps from being audible. A tear makes a perfect trail down her cheek and she's on her feet to join the audience in the standing ovation.

With the sound of clapping and Quinn's inviting glance, the rest of New Directions take their cue on stage and into the spotlights. It starts off with an electric guitar strum, waking the audience up with the change in sound. Artie wheels himself to the front, starting to rap.

Yesterday I was sitting recalling reminiscing

Trying to remember whenever there was nobody listening

Before the hugging and the kissing, the booing and the hissing

All I had was just a vision, all I had was my ambition

Puck walks over and high fives Artie, before getting into the groove. Somehow, he looks flawless with his rebellious hair and lecherous grin as his low voice carries the verse. Rachel and Quinn use this moment to take a glance at each other. The pianist feels so alive from the previous performance and her world suddenly seems more vibrant. Rachel only gets better under the new light. Their glances turn into something a little longer but nobody in the group minds. _Thank you,_ hazel eyes manage to say. The singer reddens, suddenly shy, when she later manages to look up, brown eyes say _you're so welcome and I'd do it all again. _Watching from a distance, Santana and Brittany just make sure to nudge the girls to the right positions when the time comes.

Your love without condition kept me swinging when I'm missing

My eyes upon the prize kept me striving for the mission

When I was down for the count, falling out of the commission

I can hear your voice now screaming out, 'son, listen'

Sam voice enters the fray. The footballer is confident as he swaggers to the front. People are captivated by the control he has over his body as they listen rapt with attention. Even those that usually have trouble liking this genre gets to their feet and start to clap to the persistent beat.

Get on up, don't give up, though you struck opposition

Time to buck all that stuff, find out what's your condition

Like a pull in my soul, like keys in my ignition

Call you all my commission, my love and my vision and

Mike, Tina and Lauren move to the center. They start to sing the bridge. Tina brings the melody. Lauren is the attitude and Mike dances around the two.

It doesn't matter if they call me wrong

Doesn't matter if they steal my song

Doesn't matter if we're all alone

It doesn't matter at all

Brittany and Santana start to sing, looking into each other's eyes and full of conviction. The crowd believes in the devotion between the couple because it pours out of their voices. Even the bigots and the haters momentarily forget that these are two girls serenading each other. Probably in one of the rare times in their life, they let their enthusiasm take control, joining the people who are already celebrating.

'Cause I would take a bullet for you

I would take a bullet for you

I would cross any line, I'd swim across the sea

Santana smiles, winking to the tall dancer who shakes her head and chuckles. They hold pinkies proudly center-stage.

I would take a bullet for you

I would take a bullet for you

I would lose it all, take my fall

To show you it's for real

Finn takes the microphone and starts the second verse. He looks strange, rapping to a crowd. But the determination in his stance and his desire to be with his friends in this competition is more than convincing. So he pulls it off.

Remember when we used to flow together back in the park

You would slang guitar licks under stars in the dark

You'd say let's grow together as this world falls apart

I was holding on to hope but hardly holding a spark

Perhaps the more surprising is Kelsey as she steps up next. At first the audience is unsure on sight, some even laugh. She's a tall ridiculously refined looking character. However, when the words actually leave the redhead's mouth, it changes the minds of the doubters. They wonder how such a poised girl could sound so focused? She gets them to cheer, accentuating and punctuating the speech better than even some of the boys. And the audience learns to not judge people by their covers.

All the rhymes that I wrote you'd call dope for the start

I'd be like a pure note, like a quote on the mark

You'd go to every show and promote from the start

From the beginning we've been building much more than this art

Finn, Puck and Artie join Kelsey at the front and they appear to be in their own little gang as they continue to rap the verse. For artistic flair they move around the redhead, kissing the back of her hand. The rest of the group laughs because this was not choreographed and Mr Schue looks like he might faint. However maybe it's because the friendship between the teenagers are obvious, maybe it reminds the viewers their own childhood friend but they are jumping up and down and dancing along.

Remember bearing scars in your car to impart your heart

You cared enough to call my bluff through the junk from the start

That's why you're holding onto half of my heart

You've been there through the times, through the nights that were dark and…

The four hold the word. Mercedes and Kurt walk up. There's a pause before they sing the lines that the audience has learnt by now. Everyone claps to the beat.

It doesn't matter if they call me wrong

Doesn't matter if they steal my song

Doesn't matter if we're all alone

It doesn't matter at all

Quinn and Rachel move to each other from opposite sides of the stage. Their smiles get bigger the closer they get. This times Rachel holds out her hand, starting the last chorus. Her eyes are on the blonde with a frightening intensity. Quinn believes it because she would do the same. Words will never get close enough to describe their devotion but this song is damn close. They both laugh through moist eyes.

'Cause I would take a bullet for you

I would take a bullet for you

I would cross any line, I'd swim across the sea

The pianist is blushing furiously but only Rachel can see. Quinn continues the song seamlessly and it's almost like the girls were _supposed to sing together. _

I would take a bullet for you

I would take a bullet for you

I would lose it all, take my fall

To show you it's for real

Quinn squeezes the singer's hand and they mouth adorations over the staggering applause of the audience. It's a standing ovation and McKinley High's glee club spends longer time than any other team on the grand stage because the congratulation refuses to die down. Hope flares up in their chests and they bow in unison, realizing that this group of people is their first real fans.

/

Nationals is different to any other competition in the way that there's no drumroll or huge presentation. There's only quiet anticipation as one of the judges steps out of the panel's room, rearranges his glasses and strides to the main noticeboard with a list of school's in hand. The man knows that the clubs are eyeing him like hawks but it doesn't faze him. He's been doing it for years. He knows that some people will go home defeated, vowing never to participate again whilst other strengthen their determination. The winners however are always interesting to watch. They vary each year, from the pompous group so sure of their abilities to those that stand still with their mouths open, they can't believe that they've won and the moment _will be in their memories forever. _The man always thinks that those are the performers to watch; the underdogs who will grow succeed and retain their humble attitudes. This year, the judge thinks that he will pay extra attention.

The list goes up. New Directions actually does something different to the previous year. They hold back, waiting for the fury of teams to pass. They figure out that this moment is important and when they are in it, they want to be able to savor it. They don't want to be shoved left, right and center as other groups try to catch a glimpse. Kurt, Rachel, Brittany and Mercedes have their fingers-crossed. Quinn and Santana stand close to their girls, a silent support when things go right and even more so when things go wrong. They appear to be calm as they talk of other activities and plans. The only people who can tell that those two girls are as nervous as the rest are Brittany and Rachel. They can feel it in the way that Santana and Quinn's hands squeeze theirs occasionally. Finn shifts from one foot to the other nervously and Kelsey tries to get him to stop. Puck looks bored but he paces like a madman. Lauren had pushed her computer away, knowing that she was far too jittery to pay the machine any attention. Artie pays with the wheels of his chair and Tina is in Mike's arms as he sways their bodies comfortingly.

Eventually it is their turn. Rachel shuts her eyes because she too nervous to look. What if it is bad news? The singer thinks it might be when there is silence in the group. Her shoulders even start to drop but when she opens her eyes everyone has slow smiles and looks of disbelief. Quinn nods kindly to the board, directing her attention to the sheet. McKinley High and the words first place are written. Rachel's eyes widen and in a second she squeals jumping into the pianist waiting arms. And it is almost as her reaction was the missing catalyst because it finally sinks in. The group of kids from Ohio jumps and hugs each other with tears of happiness in their eyes. No one is left behind, not the boy in the wheelchair or the new member who only barely understands what's going on. Quinn is about to pull back and congratulate Rachel but before she can, soft full lips are on hers and she opens her mouth for entry. This way will do, she thinks. And as their tongues massage each other she remembers that this is better, even with the hoots of their friends in the background.

/

Their bus pulls back into McKinley's loading bay, practically in the early morning. Everyone walks of completely spent but with smiles. Most greet their parents, as they weren't in a good state to drive. Rachel's fathers are already there, finding the traffic easier to navigate in a smaller car. They still have the number one signs and the streamers from the competition. Judy cried in the performance as she watched her daughter be open to a theater full of people. She, however, waits at home, thinking that Quinn might want to mix a little with her friends before being dorky and going home with her mother.

The singer asks for a few minutes from her parents and Quinn, rushing back to the choir room. She recalls leaving her diary in her locker, thinking that it would be remiss of her to not document the events of the competition. She hums and even skips on her way. Finn watches the singer depart from the group and decides to follow. He needed to talk to her anyway. Most of all he hopes the exhilaration and joy from their performance would realign the singer with her dreams. The footballer hopes that she changes her mind about Julliard.

In the halls of the school he calls out.

"Rach, wait. I need to talk to you."

The brunette stops and turns. She smiles when she realizes who it is.

"Finn, can you believe it? We won _Nationals._ All the things that we wanted, they're coming true. You're applying to Ohio State for mechanics and I'm – "

"You're, you're what?"

Finn asks pointedly. He honestly wondered how the singer would finish her sentence. It is kind of sad the boy thinks as he watches Rachel's face fall. The light drains a little from her eyes and she's lost like the rest of them. The brunette stops because she doesn't know the answer. Till this moment she thought she had made peace with her decision to turn down the offer and try to get in through second round. Now, as the question comes out from sideways, there's a dread in her heart. And this time she doesn't know if it's to do with Quinn or lifetime dreams of the highly rated performing arts school and Broadway. Instead she stutters.

"I – "

Eventually, Finn lets out a slow breath.

"You're still not going to Julliard are you?

Rachel's heart breaks a little at the dejected expression on the footballer's face. Finn doesn't even bother looking at the singer after that. He thinks that he should have known that she'd never concede. Still he can't help feeling guilty and inept that he couldn't be enough to sway her mind. The footballer also realizes that he never stood a chance. Once Quinn was in the game he wasn't even a player on the field, _nobody was,_ really.

"Finn…"

The footballer shrugs the shorter girl's hand away.

"Don't Rachel. Just don't. "

The singer drops her hand and gives the boy her full attention. She knows that it's the least she can do. He really was looking out for her. She knows it. But she refuses to think that he could be right. It would hurt too much. Finn rubs his face tiredly.

"I thought that Nationals would show what you really want. And maybe it did, you know? But for what it's worth I don't think you're making the right choice."

He starts to walk past her in the opposite direction of their friends and family. The footballer decides that he needs some room to consider the consequences. He starts making plans for the fact that Quinn will one day hate herself for influencing the singer in such a manner. He starts making plans for the fact that one day Rachel will come to him after a day in a job that she does not love with regretful remarks about what could have been… _despite being married to the pianist_. Before Finn makes it out of earshot, he turns around briefly and says across the hall.

"Rach, I think that this is going to hurt people, especially Quinn. You…you just can't see it yet."

/

Half an hour later, Rachel has made it back to her house. She lets the excited actions of her fathers push away Finn's voice and haunting sadness. Quinn stays at school, wanting to take a stroll through the school. She wants to remember this place because this last year seems perfect, she's met the person that lifts her up and makes her better. Walking along the halls, she runs into a familiar figure. Finn. The blonde smiles at the boy but she is ignored. Instead, he wears an almost angry expression grabbing books from his locker and storming past. On his way his shoulders plough through her. Only her fast reflexes prevent her from falling and her head whips around to his furthering back. Irritation that she didn't even know was inside her starts to build and all of a sudden, random recollections come back to her. It had been nearly a week since the last time Finn has acknowledged her, constantly silent and turning away. The boy refused to look in her eyes and muttered comments under his breath. It takes her a second to realize it all, but she _misses _her friend. Finn was slow on the uptake but he was the _first_ nice person she met at McKinley, helping to pick her books up from the floor and taking her to the administration office. He was the only one that didn't care about how he could exploit her for her possible popularity. No, that ended up being her own job. Quinn wasn't ready to lose _that_ great guy yet. So with pent up anger and determination she whirls around, catching up to him and turning his shoulder.

"That's it Finn. Stop! You are going to tell me what your problem with me is."

She takes a breath before beginning again in a more reasonable tone.

"I thought you were ok with Rachel and I. Why are you being such a jerk?"

The pianist stares at the footballer. She can see that he's trying too hard to be mean. She caught the way his eyes softened in her presence and the fact that he had to clench his fists to stop the automatic denial from coming out to the question. He really had no issues with the girls. In fact, Finn foolishly hopes that they get everything they want because they deserved it. But he can't say any of that. It would only lead to more questions. Why? Why? Why? The footballer cares about Rachel just as much. He won't betray her secrets.

"I don't want to talk it, Quinn."

He says with rising anxiety. He tries to pull out of her grasp to leave. However Quinn has a surprisingly strong grip from softball and old Cheerio practices. She holds him still and steps forward.

"That's too bad because I'm not giving you a choice!"

"Quinn let me go."

The demand comes out through clenched teeth. The blonde shakes her head coolly.

"Finn, just tell me what's going on!"

In that moment Finn reaches a breaking point. All the pressures and powerlessness that comes from trying to convince Rachel hits him like a brick wall. He's ashamed that he couldn't stop this. He's at a loss as to the next step and he's just so _tired. _

"Why don't you just ask your girlfriend?"

He yells. The sound reverberates off the walls. And in her shock Quinn finally let's go. Subconsciously, she staggers back. Her heart starts to race and she's no longer carefree. Without even knowing the issue, the weight of the world starts to find its familiar home on her shoulders again. The pianist feels that impending sense of tragedy when one's happiness is threatened. And, by the time she speaks again her eyes are glassy and Finn swears that she's not quite there.

"…What's that mean?"

Finn watches sadly and tries once again for the chance to just walk away.

"Quinn never mind. Just go home. Celebrate, we just won Nationals."

The blonde swallows forcefully she shakes her head and for a second her eyes are clear again. Quinn is able to articulate her thoughts with clarity.

"No. What did you mean Finn? If you _ever_ cared about me, tell me. You're supposed to be one of my oldest friends."

Her words prevent him from leaving, but her hoarse voice almost makes her sound weak. Funny thing, Quinn Fabray used to be anything but weak. His mouth opens and closes but nothing comes out. He's got no argument against her and his mind refuses to lie anymore. He feels sorry for Quinn because her whole world is about to change. She's going to be lonely again.

"She got in Quinn."

"What?"

"Rachel, she got into Julliard, early entry. The due date for her response is 12 pm tomorrow. She's going to give up her position…for you. She loves you."

The answer is said softly. Finn tries to break the news gently whilst knowing at the same time that the mode of delivery won't change the result. Quinn is suspended in a state of disbelief as she shakes her head to herself continuously. Her eyes are wide in surprise

"She…She wouldn't do that and she would tell me if she got in."

Quinn is conflicted. She wants to smile at the good news, that the singer got her dreams. However, the reaction is tightly controlled by anxiety and a deep sense of dread. _Why didn't Rachel just say so? _Finn snickers to himself.

"See now that's where you're wrong. She's _Rachel_. Did you really think that Brittany would have gotten in before her?"

Sarcasm leaks into his voice. For a moment all Quinn can think is that maybe the footballer has been hanging around Santana and Kelsey just a little too much. But that thought only saves her for a little while. Eventually she mulls over his words. Her fists clench and unclench as her jaw works. Her vision becomes blurry with moisture and she's breathing harshly through her nose. Finally she stops trying to keep the bad things out. And with that decision, she is able to trace her memories to every strange disagreement, dismissal of topics and changes in personality in the brunette so far. She chokes a little, realizing that she should have followed her instincts. _She shouldn't have let the singer hide. _Quinn thinks a large part of the situation is on her, for losing her practicality. She had forgotten that people couldn't run on emotions alone.

"Quinn, she didn't tell you okay. And she's already decided to give the opportunity up."

Finn whispers. His shoulders are dropped and he's lost the edginess in his tone. He's the boy she met four years ago again: kind, clumsy and a little protective. The footballer flinches at the desperation contained in the blonde's next statement as she glares a spot in the wall. He's not sure about whom she is trying to convince.

"This is _Julliard, _Finn. Rachel has more sense than that."

Finn rubs his face in aggravation. The girls were as stubborn as each other. He feels sorry for the blonde because she still doesn't see herself that much or in the right light.

"I don't get it, Quinn. Why are you having so much trouble with this? Last year, _you_ told me that if I got too close to her, she would choose me over her dreams…"

He stops to take a breath before shaking his head exasperatedly. This next part is still hard for him to say. One day, he will let the singer go completely, just not today. However he has long since accepted the truth, Rachel loves Quinn to the point where she's ready to give up everything. It comes out loud as he tries to push through his own pain.

"…She loves you _so much more Quinn! _Why on earth do you think that she wouldn't do the same for you?"

"Because she can't! Ok?"

Quinn shouts automatically. Tears start to stream down her cheek and it's the start of her long resignation. The blonde turns her head away, speaking in low tones.

"Rachel Berry is meant for Broadway and New York and bright freaking flashing lights. I can't be her reason to stay."

A profound sadness pervasively enters her being as she comes to an aching conclusion. She leans against the lockers, trying to find strength in the solid metal structure.

"I just can't."

Finn watches Quinn's hands move to cover her face as she tries so hard to keep the pieces of her heart together.

"What can I do?"

The blonde looks up at the footballer's soft question. Then, she stares hard at the wall, swallowing breathing and trying to feel in control. It seems like hours that they just stay there in the hall, letting the desolation smother them. When Quinn does finally speak, her voice is husky and her eyes are broken. He hears the plea in her voice.

"Take me to Rachel's house and later when if I end up on your doorstep, keep telling me that I made the right decision tonight."

She pauses, looking into his eyes.

"…Keep telling me Finn, until I start to believe it."

In the stillness of an empty school, Finn nods. The soundless gesture is deafening.

/

See you next time guys!


	23. Chapter 23 Broken Hearts

Chapter 23 – Broken Hearts

Hi guys, tried to get this chapter out faster because I didn't want to leave you with a cliffhanger for too long. Bear with me, I know that this might seem like it'll never end, but this story is going the way how I always envisioned it. We're headlining to the last stretch-ish. The songs in this chapter are I can't break it to my heart by Delta Goodrem and Sandcastles by Kate Voegele.

Basically I know some of you are not looking forward to any more sadness but there's a reason for it all. I hope the "why?" make it through. Let me know ok?

_To Platypeople_ – I see your point about your nitpick. My bad, I should have done more research. In Australia, the system works differently, people can go straight to med/law school straight after high school. =)

_To S8105 – _Thanks and there's just a little more madness but there is an end I promise. Everything should tie back in together. Murder and hugs, sounds like an interesting combination. Oh well gotta keep my hubby or wifie happy? XD I hope you like this.

_To Phoebex13 – _Haha I would like to read your strongly worded letter! I'm glad you like Kelsey. She's the only one in this fic that isn't RIB's. I'm glad I could brighten up your week and if you're up 3:30 reading my fic I will never judge you =D After this ends, I do want to write something else in this universe, so we'll see? It depends on my workload.

_To bleed4her_ – Um well it's definitely not an ultimatum. Quinn as you'll later realize figures something out and it's not really a choice anymore. Ugh I don't want to give it away. But not an ultimatum, I agree that would be something I can't see either. I hope it doesn't disappoint.

_To TeirAnazazi_ – Just keep in mind there will be a happy ending by the end of all of this.

_To ThisOneTimeAt – _I'm glad you like the music. I was just listening to my songs on random one day and somehow ended up piecing a story together from the lyrics. New favourite faberry writer? Thanks so much! No worries on the playlist I will submit as the last chapter at the end of this fic and with luck when you listen to it you can remember the story. =)

_/_

Three knocks are placed on the wooden door of the Berry household. It's 3am and Quinn Fabray stands outside in the cold with her jacket wrapped tightly around her body. She doesn't _want to be here_, doing what she thought she wouldn't ever have to do. She thought she could keep this love in her life. That naive part of her, works hard to tear at her consciousness. It makes her heart hurt and forces her eyes to water. So now, the pianist is on the ledge and she just needs Rachel to tell her that it's not true. She needs her girlfriend to tell her that it was all a joke and that she was going to Julliard in the fall. Because that way, Quinn wasn't holding her back from anything, _that way_ maybe their relationship could survive the distance.

However, all those thoughts are ripped away when Rachel opens the door with a happy smile on her face. Quinn can tell by the glow around Rachel that the brunette is still on the high from Nationals. She hates that she is going to bring Rachel back down to the ground. For a second, the blonde entertains the idea of apologizing and leaving, pushing this confrontation down a week or two and maybe forever. And just as she is about to do so, she remembers when the deadline for the singer's acceptance _is_ and instead she forces herself to stay.

"Quinn, hello! Come in, come in what are you doing out at this time of night? I thought you'd be home already. My fathers and I were just having a nightcap. Come join us."

Rachel exclaims after getting over her surprise. She steps forward and almost throws herself into the taller girls arms in her enthusiasm. As the blonde's pale arms wrap around the singer, it's a different experience than usual. In the past, perhaps she has taken these moments of contact for granted, but tonight she can feel _everything…_she tries to remember _everything_; from how Rachel's dark hair tickles her jaw to the fact that her heart always finds a rhythm to the singer's roaming fingers. Quinn closes her eyes and breathes in deep. A bittersweet smile makes its way to her face; she smells _strawberries and cinnamon. _Indulging herself for a second, the pianist wonders if Rachel will continue to bake after this. When Quinn ceases to be a part of her life, would Rachel cease to make those heart shaped biscuits as well? Maybe Rachel would stop because they brought back to many memories, or maybe she would simply make the sweet desserts in excess, no longer believing in the sentiments behind them. It hurts the blonde to think about and a tear slides down her cheek. Feeling the moisture land on her neck, the singer is alarmed. She is about to pull back when Quinn's arms tighten, bringing her back close. The softball player's deep breathing fills her ears.

"Wait, Rachel…please…can we just stay like this for a while."

The words are so piercing in their desperation. Rachel can't help but think that Quinn sounds like a person seeing something for the last time. As the thought churns a cold feeling travels down her spine and vices start tightening on her heart. The singer swallows thickly, thinking that she may know what this is about. The happiness drains away and her skin pales. Quinn figures out the pinnacle of her girlfriend's realization because in _that_ moment, she is no longer the only one clinging to the body of the other. She's no longer the _only one_ whispering a mantra of denial in her mind.

It's a testament to their will power when they pull away. The blonde doesn't let go completely. One of her arms is still wrapped around the diva's waist whilst the other caresses a tan jawline, bringing their foreheads together. She whispers with tightly shut-eyes.

"We need to talk."

From the corner in the living room, the two fathers stand up worriedly. Hiram bites his nails, a habit he swore he gave up in high school. He could see how both girls trembled in the knowledge of some unforeseen consequence to their relationship. The bespectacled man just wants to rush over with the newest musical movie or karaoke number to distract them from whatever they were so afraid of. But that would be childish and unfortunately these two girls are some of the few in Lima that matured just a little too quickly, due to bullying and _due to harsh parenting. _They would never run, only endure and hopefully overcome. Leroy, on the other hand, moves quietly grabbing his keys and wallet. When he's ready and has no more excuses, he finally takes a long look at the scene. Letting out a sigh, he has a feeling that both girls wouldn't find sleep tonight. The tall African American knows what will happen. He recalls finding out about his daughter's letter from Julliard and her subsequent decision to refuse. It had been so hard for the father to be supportive. As Leroy recognizes the clenched fists and forced steel behind Quinn's hazel eyes; the father is ashamed to say that he's grateful. He clears his throat.

"Hiram and I are going to go out and get some ice-cream. We'll give you girls some space. Just give us a call when you are done."

The two men walk out and close the door behind them. The finality of the wood meeting the latch hits the girls and they start to pull back. Rachel puts a hand up to halt Quinn's attempt to speak. The brunette takes one last sad glance and moves into the next room. When she returns she has a white envelope in her hand, stamped by Julliard. For a second, hesitance causes her hand to waver as she extends the letter to the blonde. Quinn receives it and begins to read. Rachel can't help but ask.

"How did you find out?"

There's silence as hazel eyes continue to read the page. Eventually Quinn sighs and puts the letter down. She stares distantly at the picture on the wall and runs a hand through her hair, frustrated. It is hard to keep the pain from her tone. Rachel flinches.

"Finn told me. But…the real question is _why didn't you?"_

The brunette stalls. She has had a week to compose the perfect answer, one that could impress and divert attention away from her actions. However with the blonde in front of her, everything fails her but the truth. Rachel steps back and leans against the armrest of the sofa. She tries to rub the tension from her face and lets out a small groan. When she opens her eyes and sees the concern in her girlfriend's expression, she just feels guilty. The words almost forget to come out.

"I – I wish I knew. I kept telling myself that I would but it never seemed like the right moment. Between your softball championship and then Nationals…_I was just so scared, Quinn._"

The blonde softens, walking and kneeling in front of the shorter girl. She tries not to think about how the motion comes so naturally to her. Quinn plays with their combined hands curiously and with child like wonder, eventually looking up.

"What were you so afraid of?"

Rachel's eyes flutter at the closeness and in a breathy voice she manages to whisper.

"Leaving you... Not being with you… I don't know why, but even the thought of it just hurts."

Opening her eyes, the brunette looks down at her lap, at the end product of Quinn's fumbling. It's a beautiful meshwork of fingers, tan against pale. For a second, they both take in a breath and they remember how well they fit. And with that in mind, Rachel tries to explain her actions.

"I thought I'd put my name down for second round, and by then you would have gotten your offers as well and then we could go to New york together and rent and apartment an –"

"I didn't get in Rachel."

Quinn interrupts as she starts to pull away. Her eyes are clenched shut trying to avoid the inevitable flecks of disappointment that would appear in the singer's brown eyes. She tries to keep her own emotions a secret; she tries to hide how much she wants the future the brunette painted because one of them had to be anchored to reality. And if the blonde says yes now, the war for the singer's future would be lost. The pianist knows that there are holes in her armor. Her girlfriend is most adept at finding them but tonight she can't afford to give Rachel an opening because that would mean the end of dreaming and the start of a lifetime of constant compromise.

The shorter girl must take the silence to mean something else or maybe she just wants to believe in something else, as her worried eyes pour over the pianist.

"Quinn, I'm sure you're mistaken. You're on honor roll and you have your extracurriculars. I've read your curriculum vitae and it practically screams well rounded student to medical schools!"

A sad smile appears. Quinn shakily wipes away the leftover mascara that would later bleed over her face. While she does so, the words slip from her mouth.

"I mean that I didn't get into a New York university. Penn State, yes; UCLA, yes; even Georgetown but not in New York."

And Rachel is frozen.

"Oh..."

The surprised acknowledgement takes over the painful quiet. Quinn just watches. She notices the frown as the singer furrows her brows and bites apprehensively on her bottom lip. Rachel thinks of the alternatives, trying to squash that automatic anxiety that comes with the derailment of important plans. Funnily enough, she thought she'd be prepared for this scenario if the circumstances decided to be cruel: Julliard or Quinn. However, when faced with the event all she can think about is her many Broadway bootlegs that her fathers brought home from their trips in the big city, the page in her childhood diary that says New York with a gold star sticker and that … maybe those best laid plans meant a lot more than what she was ready to admit. She's given time to ponder. And when she looks up she meets the pianist's gaze head on. Quinn smiles gently and wears a sad knowing look. Just like that, Rachel remembers why this whole debacle happened. She wasn't ready to be away from her girlfriend and in the end_, that_ fact, _still hasn't changed. _Despite her indecisiveness, the brunette is thoroughly aware of how much she wants to wake to the blonde in the mornings and share animated discussions and passionate kisses at night. Quinn matters to her, _so much_. So the singer takes a breath and begins.

"Well, that's alright. I mean I've already applied to most of the performing arts schools after helping you with your applications. The offers for those have come in as well so…I don't have to go to New York."

Quinn chuckles depreciatingly, shaking her head to herself. She runs a tired hand through her hair and looks up to the ceiling for a moment. When the room, stops spinning she finally whispers.

"Yes you do, Rachel. You're far too talented to go to some mediocre second or third choice. Not when Julliard is waiting for you."

The resignation and defeated attitude in Quinn's tone is probably the trigger to the singer's rage. Rachel's own insecurities about what she might really want, is just the fuel to the fire as angry tears slide down her cheeks. She's breathing heavily and gripping the edge of the armrest tightly.

"I'm so sick of hearing that! It's my choice!"

Rachel recalls how Finn and even Santana said the same thing in different ways. Suddenly she's furious with them as well because she thinks that they don't understand her feelings; the depth of her attachment to Quinn. She thinks that somehow, they're devaluing her relationship with the blonde by placing Julliard above a future together. It will take several years for the diva to really understand her defensiveness to this situation. But thankfully, by then it won't matter anymore.

In the meantime, Quinn tries for reason. She clings to logic like a newborn child because her emotions were notoriously untrustworthy; it wanted to keep Rachel as close as possible, ignoring all costs.

"Rachel."

The singer almost glares at the blonde. Quinn takes the ire with borrowed grace, trying to be strong.

"Rachel, what do you have in UCLA or any other university for that matter? I know for a fact that you hate California, you think it's over-crowded. And in Washington the weather is too cold. Ask yourself and you'll know…you don't have anything waiting for you at any of those places."

And it seems with every word that Quinn speaks Rachel loses a bit of her composure. She'll blurt out her answer the first chance she gets. Her tone is frantic and desperate to communicate a point across.

"I have you, Quinn!"

Rachel stops for a moment, trying to calm the furious beating of her heart. Quinn's control slips because she really should have known that Rachel wasn't going to make it easy for her to walk out. And if their roles were reversed, the blonde knows that she would be doing the same thing. In fact she would even try all the dirty tactics, because her morality was based around what Rachel Berry and what she had taught her all those years ago by refusing to retaliate. Before, Quinn could retreat much further into her thoughts, small warm hands squeeze hers tightly and she forces herself to look into the singer's expressive eyes. Rachel speaks with determination despite her tearstained face.

"Quinn, I get to be with _you._ I get to come home to you after a hard day dealing with other divas and yelling at the director because I think that he should be directing maudlin school plays. I don't care about anything else as long as I just get _you!_ You, when you're smiling and you after your first big exam. It's going to be enough."

And it's in the brunette's near hysterical tone that Quinn sees it, all the possible alternatives. She realizes that hopes of a long distance relationship are impossible simply because of Rachel's current personality. At this moment in their lives, Quinn is _her whole world_. So much so, that the brunette doesn't have a proper anchor to her own desires. Instead, she plans to just orbit close to the blonde. And it hurts, because Quinn can really imagine it. That if Rachel, somehow was convinced of attending Julliard whilst still being in this relationship, she would never entirely _be there_ to enjoy her experience. The brunette wouldn't take the time to integrate fully with her peers or experience nights under the pretty lights of the city. No, instead she'll shrug off the many offers of after-show drinks until one day, her friends will just be too tired of asking. She'll do all that just to rush back to a quiet apartment, fire up her laptop and Skype about her day to a long distance Quinn. The girls would be happy for the duration of that video call, only to realize their loneliness after. And in slow moments, the brunette will wonder if maybe she should have gone out with her friends. That would be it; the so-called fantastic life that she pictured in New York. It would be nothing she dreamed off but yes, she'd have Quinn. And with that sobering thought, the blonde speaks.

"You're wrong, Rachel. It's not going to be enough."

Rachel narrows her eyes at the words.

"What? What do you mean?"

Quinn closes her eyes. She tries to do her best to remember their ending, because the journey was spectacular. The blonde knows that she is a more accessible person for finally letting the singer in. She forces the words out.

"Rachel, everything is in New York for you. And, you don't have me…not anymore."

When the blonde opens her eyes, they're full of tears. She's still trying to be gentle, to be reassuring, but she fails because of the overpowering sadness in her broken expression. Quinn's own words cause so much destruction that, for a moment, she's tempted to check if there was blood on her lips as watched something die in the singer.

"You have _no_ reason to stay…"

And Rachel winces at the last statement, feeling it like a blow to the stomach. Her vision swims as she tries to force oxygen to her lungs. It feels like every part of her body wants to be uncooperative, refusing to manage without Quinn. It is strange really. Have you ever felt pain so deep that it doesn't even hurt anymore? Like scalding hot water that feels cold on the skin. It's the only parallel she can draw at the time. Pressure wells up behind her eyes and forces try to turn her chest inside out. She clenches her fists and jaw to keep her emotions level because no matter how hard this is, she still doesn't want to cause the pianist any unnecessary grief. Rachel isn't blind nor is she stupid. She can appreciate that this is what Quinn _thinks _is the best course. It is just that the brunette also believes that the blonde gets things _wrong sometimes. _And whilst the brunette can't seem to understand her own tangled desires, she doesn't want to lose any chances with the pianist. By the end, all she chokes out is a hollow question.

"Why are you doing this, Quinn?"

Quinn closes her eyes and rubs her temples. _For your own good…_ There's a moment where the girls just sit where they are, trying to come up with an alternative solution or maybe just a convincing enough lie. Eventually the lack of answer starts to gnaw on the singer. Rachel moves from her position and goes to the mantle, away from Quinn and closer to clarity. From a distance and a higher vantage point, brain function starts to return. Slowly, she's able to think through the heartbreak and absentmindedly her hand rubs her chest where her heart should be. The despair is almost tangible. Looking across the room, she can finally see the resolution and the blind determination in the blonde. Quinn wears a frown that is so telling of her true emotions and beliefs. Yet, despite it all, her eyes try too hard to be cold and the sight makes Rachel mad. Actually, it makes her furious because it feels like giving up. The singer turns around to face the pianist; her voice is firm and _final._

"I can't keep doing this, Quinn. I can't keep putting my heart on the line only to watch you continue to reject me, reject _us. _Because, you know that I'll always trust you…_just like that. _So, if you don't take back what you said, Quinn, then this is it. I _won't_ be back. I'm going to go to New York and be a star."

Rachel stops, taking a breath. She thinks that she wasn't built to say these words, especially to Quinn. The blonde stares openly at the singer with desolate eyes. Her features are slack due to a sense of hopelessness and she seems to crumble with every one of her girlfriend's words. The tightening to her jaw are the only visible signs that she wants to speak out and that she doesn't want the relationship to end. The diva can read all of this and strides forward, collapsing to her knees in front of the blonde.

"I'm never going to look back because I can't. I won't let you hurt me anymore. So…_please Quinn_, take it back. Kiss me. Hold me and tell me that it's all going to be ok."

Against the weight of the plea, Quinn feels breathless without knowing why. She refuses to look away because Rachel deserved everything she has to give. Probably more and that's also why she clenches her jaw and bite her tongue. She looks at the singer trying to communicate understanding, apologies and _devotion_. A tear slips down her face and she's quiet. She doesn't give Rachel a reason to stay. She doesn't give Rachel a long distance distraction to her dreams. It cuts into the minds of both girls. Rachel falls back from her knees, finding support in the walls that brace her back.

"I can't feel _anything_ right now Quinn. I don't even…"

The thought kind of just disappears and the singer is once again hit with the reality of the situation. She just looks ahead and speaks. She speaks without knowing where her emotions are going to take the point and she stares without actually seeing anything through the watery layer that covers her eyes.

"You really want to end this don't you? I know you well enough to know that I can't change your mind."

Quinn just sits. She's not put together and she knows that by the end to this conversation, it'll be a scramble to find even the remnants of her personality that Rachel leaves behind. She lets the singer talk because it helps them both. It gives them just a little more time together, in close proximity and in love.

"Quinn, I have nothing to do or say. Part of me doesn't even feel like this is real. Maybe it's some nightmare that I just conjured up in my sleep."

Rachel lets out a small smile at the possibility and turns to the blonde.

"I hope so."

The singer receives a bittersweet grin in response before the heaviness sets in again. Rachel nods slightly, acknowledging that they can't draw this out forever. She stares into hazel eyes and her words are forceful but still kind. She refuses to be cruel. Quinn has had so many people like that already. Instead Rachel just makes one last request.

"But if this isn't just a nightmare. And when I _can finally_ feel something; I'm going to _cry_. I going to _yell_ and I'm going to be _so damn angry_ at you, Quinn…Because I'll never understand why you're doing this. Maybe you're scared? Or maybe love isn't enough."

A sob escapes her throat. Quinn feels her heart rip at the seams and she fights herself to keep listening. Rachel asks anxiously.

"But, promise me one thing Quinn. When I break into pieces in front of everyone, don't be kind… don't be considerate…just…_don't be you…_"

Rachel swallows thickly.

"I need you not to care, or I won't make it through this…"

For the last time in a while, the blonde places a comforting hand over the singer's and squeezes. The shock of the touch reminds them of their attraction and their perfect moments together. Quinn's voice is cracked and husky. She'll cry the second she's alone, Rachel knows. She sees the blonde's response before hearing it.

"OK."

It's a two-letter word and it's their conclusion. Quinn kicks herself because she can't seem to conjure up something better and more eloquent. She can't say anything to make this easier. There's nothing but the sounds of two hearts breaking. And, it is so loud that they both fall to their knees, wondering why?

_Why couldn't they be the ones that could make it?_

/

When Rachel sends her acceptance to Julliard the next morning, she'll admit that she lied to Quinn. The singer will _always _look back, just hoping to catch a glimpse of a certain blonde in her rearview mirror, because…_anything was better than nothing. _

And Quinn has always believed that everything happens for a reason; that god and the universe orchestrate events to make a person stronger and better. But this time, she just can't see it…she just can't understand how _not_ being with Rachel could ever make things better.

After leaving the brunette's house, Quinn runs to her car in the rain. She cries for a long time, until her eyes begin to sting and irritate. In that moment, she'll think that maybe she can be brave in the aftermath. But she can't. Instead, she drives around aimlessly, ending on a friend's doorstep. The blonde would knock on the old wooden door. There'd be a series of heavy footsteps and after second, the door opens. A surprised footballer registers every nuance of her broken appearance and automatically, he _understands. _His expression crumples with sympathy and without a thought, he brings the pianist into a tight bear hug. In the warmth and support of a stronger figure, Quinn feels her gates of control slip. She collapses and breaks down. Her tears return fiercer than before to make new stains down her cheek. She barely registers it when Kelsey comes from inside the house with a worried glance. The redhead notices the cold and soaked clothing of her friend and tries to shepherd the two into the house. Finn's gentle hold keeps Quinn upright and he whispers over and over…

"It's ok Quinn. You did the right thing. _You did the right thing."_

…They take care of the blonde who has taken care of everyone else.

/

The girls spend the next days apart and in their own personal purgatory. Quinn stays locked in Finn's bedroom, curled into an inconsolable vessel of guilt, shame and pain. The footballer and the redhead try to stay with the pianist, _when she lets them. _Kelsey leaves trays of homemade food by the bed and Finn holds her at night, all the while keeping his promise. He'll continue to say the same thing until she believes it. Briefly in his spare moments, he'll wonder how Rachel was doing and whether she would ever realize what Quinn did for her. There's a part of the boy who is still hopelessly in love with the singer and wants to rush over to the Berry manor to check on the girl. He'll think about it for a few minutes, only to shake his head to himself. His desire to be Rachel's hero would be overridden by the fierce sense of protectiveness that takes over when he sees an aimless Quinn wandering his halls. And Finn, in those seconds, straightens up. He'll almost cry because Quinn doesn't deserve the bad stuff. She never _does._

In a different neighborhood, in Lima Heights adjacent, a persistent knocking on her door wakes Santana. She'd untangle herself from a peacefully sleeping dancer and drag herself to the entryway. When she opens the door it takes a while for her sleep-addled mind to process the scene but when she does it is obvious. Her fists clench and her jaw works. She'll never verbalize why but she feels furious and takes a step out, looking around scathingly for an assailant, a mugger, _somebody _that could explain why Rachel Berry was crying on her doorstep. The brunette was wrecked, tearstained and pale as a ghost. Over the months, the Latina has found that Rachel Berry gets under your skin and somehow burrows a nice little niche in your walls, until you slowly forget to see her as the enemy. At first, Santana started to care and then, she started to see a friend in the shorter girl. _She just hates to admit it,_ so maybe that's why she is so awkward in their hugs. But wordlessly, she'll direct the singer to her bedroom, hoping that Quinn wasn't in a similar state. She'll send the first of three messages.

_Q, why is Berry crying on my doorstep? – Santana_

Santana practically has to set the motionless brunette on her bed. The action jostles Brittany causing her eyelids to flutter as she became more aware. The first thing she notices is that her San isn't on the bed; the second is the small sobs coming from her third favourite person. Her brows furrow with worry and she leaps up to cradle Rachel's face. The touch is the first since…Quinn. And it is just as soft, just as caring but it didn't illicit shudders and electricity. The loss somehow seems more profound and a whimper escapes the singer as she lets herself fall into Brittany's lap. Rachel gives up on her stage-like mask and gives in to the hollowness that threatens her mind. Brittany is different to any other person. She won't console by any normal means. The dancer doesn't watch the singer cry only to whisper comforting statements from the sidelines. Instead, those blue eyes take in Rachel's emotions and manufacture them like her own. Brittany actually cries _with Rachel,_ hugging the smaller girl close, because her ability to empathize has always been like that, pure an unhindered. In the end, it might just be what Rachel needs because the pressure lifts slightly and she doesn't feel so alone. The burden feels shared and she finds comfort in the idea that it isn't all in her head. The situation was profoundly unfair and not what anybody wanted. Santana keeps her comments to herself. She would play the guardian and the protector, monitoring who got access to the two girls. She acts as if they were the most important things right now; making sure they shower, eat and go out for a daily moment in the sun. She keeps them physically healthy because right now their hearts were just a little sick and broken, but it would get better. It just takes time.

When Santana hears for the first time from Rachel why she was in such a state. Her breathing gets a little harsher and she's fuming. After seeing the aftermath of anguish and misery left in Rachel for the last two days, Santana sends a second message. In this one, she temporarily forgets that Quinn is her friend too. She forgets that there is every probability that the blonde was just as hurt and most of all she forgets that she was the pianist friend _first._

_Q! You broke up with her. Are you shitting me? Have you finally lost it? – Santana_

On the last day before school, Brittany and Santana go to the nearby video store and borrow Funny Girl and every other Barbra Streisand movie available. That night they make popcorn, buy ice-cream and settle in next to Rachel with a thick blanket, hoping to bring a little life back to the usually vibrant singer. They hoped that a happy memory might make it easier to withstand the grief when the inevitable encounter with Quinn comes. But, when Rachel's eyes don't light up at the opening credits, when she can't even crack a smile at the dialogue and when she won't even hum the tunes; Santana send a third message. This last one is more frantic and desperate.

_I don't know what you did but fix it Quinn. Fix it now! – Santana_

To all of these messages, she'll get radio silence until a late hour when nobody _should be awake._ Three messages would pop up, each as lost sounding as the next.

_I'm sorry… – Quinn _

_I can't… – Quinn_

_Please take care of her – Quinn _

/

Monday kind of just creeps up on everyone. Most are still disorientated by the time of day and the nights of partying. But there is a small group that's distracted by heartbreak. Rachel twists her hands nervously. She waits for the choir room to fill for their morning practice. Her head whips up; paranoid at the sound of anyone by the doorway, hoping and dreading that it could be Quinn. Rachel looks up even when she _knows _that the sneaker squeaks don't match, because she doesn't want to miss any of her remaining time with the pianist. The singer finds that it's in the seconds where her ex-girlfriend is surprised that she can see so clearly through the mask. Rachel swallows forcefully, the prefix 'ex' was so hard to even think about let alone say. She wonders if she'll ever be able to say it without choking and sobbing. If so, it is in a distant future that she just can't get in touch with right now. Brittany rubs the shorter girl's back every few minutes in an attempt to calm and sooth. The dancer talks of rainbows and unicorns that could take away the sadness if Rachel wants. She just has to be open to the idea. The only catch is that it involves accepting the loss first. _It's a catch 22, and _it doesn't just show Rachel the hopelessness of the situation because she is also reminded of afternoons of reading on Quinn's bed. The girls used to passionately discuss the logic of Joseph Heller against other contemporaries.

Rachel loves the memory so much that she can sit through the ache it leaves behind. Santana is perched on the other seat next to the diva. She has her arms crossed and her concentrated gaze locked on the door. She has a million and one questions and countless angry statements at the ready but above all she is concerned for her old friend. She imagines Quinn to be broken in a different way, the type that hides under a cool expression and biting remarks. And this worries the Latina more, because people might so easily overlook the warning signs; it was much too easy to believe the blonde's throwaway assurances. They're almost never true.

Time runs out on thought because Quinn is suddenly in the doorway. Santana marvels at the sight. She thinks that Rachel really must have been important, because the blonde isn't hiding that well at all. There are frown lines, puffy and bloodshot eyes and a pained gasp at the site of the singer. Quinn's hair is unkempt and her clothes un-ironed. The Latina feels sorry for Rachel because it really doesn't detract from the pianist's beauty. It'll make the distance harder. For a moment, the girls just drink in the presence of each other, closing their eyes and letting that familiar warmth tickle their skin. They have to keep focus because if they enjoyed it any longer; they could lose it and spiral again. Quinn stares sadly at the brunette, seeing the distraught expression on Rachel's face. It hits the blonde hard, because she wants to go over. She wants to comfort Rachel, kissing away the tears and whispering apologies.

In the moment when she's about to do exactly that, she notices the singer's hope under all the misery. And Quinn suddenly remembers her promise. _Don't be kind. Don't be considerate. Just…don't be you. _

Slowly, the blonde clenches her jaw. She strides over to a seat in the opposite side of the room and forces her eyes to jump over Rachel. But she really can't help it when she hears a choked sob. Santana is about to stand and walk over but the others start to fill into the room noisily. They must be hung over because they don't feel the atmosphere or notice the distance between the girls. Finn and Kelsey are the last and they _are_ different. Brittany sees how tired and worn out they look. The dancer notices how they cast sympathetic glances in the singer's direction and the smudged mascara on the footballer's collar. Brittany realizes and places a hand on Santana's arm. The Latina looks at her girlfriend confusedly before following those blue eyes. Finn and Kelsey go to the seats next to Quinn. They negotiate with whoever is already there and somehow seem like bodyguards. Santana lets out a surprised sigh. She acknowledges the sight and sits down, because at the very least Quinn wasn't being self-destructive alone.

"Alright guys. Did we all have a fun weekend after winning Nationals?"

Mr Schue burst into the room asking. The teacher has a youthful joy on his face as he places the trophy on the piano top. Most of the members holler and cheer. In the midst of the fifth wave of celebrations, Quinn and Rachel feel an inexplicable tug towards each other. They aren't strong enough to resist it, because their heads turn and their eyes lock. It's like rediscovering oneself again after a long sleep. Brown meets hazel and they loose the air in their lungs. Quinn looks away first.

"Now I didn't really have a lesson plan today bu –"

"Mr Schue."

Rachel's shockingly timid voice interrupts the music teacher's statement. For the first time that morning, everyone notices the defeat permeating the singer and the emptiness in the blonde's bored stare. Sam looks to his friend in worry. There wasn't even the spark of ire or irritation, there was just nothing. So if eyes were windows to a person's soul, what did it say about the state of Quinn's? Rachel on the other hand is the opposite. It doesn't make her grief any less significant or severe, only more open. The club can't understand anything from the pianist; today she's a stranger, cold and distant. Even in such a scene, they balance each other out, because Rachel's expressions and nervous actions paint a picture of the tragedy. It stops the alienation from Quinn's sudden retreat from setting in, reminding the group of who the blonde was.

"I want to say something. There's a song I want to sing…"

Mr Schue is too confused to do anything but nod. He takes a seat and watches Rachel walk shakily to the front. Brittany not sure about what's going to happen but she supports her friend, letting out a small 'woo.' Santana analyses the scene, trying to predict the future. The plan had been for the brunette to lay low, so that the dancer and the Latina could talk to Quinn. The two ex-cheerleaders would get to the bottom of it and turn the pianist to the right direction and reverse this. However in the current situation, Santana lets out a small nod, Rachel was Rachel. She would never sit idly by, especially not with Quinn. The singer would yell, scream and scratch, to force her point and try to bring back happiness. And whilst the song that would be sung is still up in the air, the Latina knows that Quinn would have a terrifyingly hard next few minutes. The blonde might have to reinforce that wall on her heart a hundred times over to keep herself from hearing and responding to Rachel. And Brittany is sad, because from that clenched jaw, she knows that the pianist is going to try.

The brunette hands Brad the music. There's silence in the room and it only emphasizes a certain fact: this was the first time in a long time that they had to call the man in. Lately Quinn had been covering the instrument for the songs. It pierces Rachel's composure when she realizes that she isn't staring into the encouraging eyes of her the softball player but a middle aged tired accompanist. It's like experiencing the separation all over again and she holds the piano top to right herself. The slow keys start into the song.

If it's okay

I'll leave the bed light on

And place your water glass where it belongs

Rachel begins. Her voice is deep with emotion and she doesn't bother trying to control it. She just wants to get this out while she can and have Quinn back in her arms. She learns that it's true what age old musicians say, if it is from somewhere real, then the right melodies and bridges are just trimmings, because the message will get across correctly either way. The singer walks to the area in front of Quinn and forces hazel eyes to meet hers.

Quinn hates that fact that the brunette's voice is a weak question. And, just from the opening lines, she realizes that Rachel hasn't accepted it yet. The singer's not strong enough yet or maybe she's too strong, choosing to stand by her convictions. The pianist tries not to think about it too much.

And if it's alright

I'll lie awake at night

Pretending I'm curled up at your side

In the end, that's ok because Quinn promises herself that she'll hold them apart until Rachel can bear the burden on her own. She swears that she can be convincing enough despite how her hand trembles. The blonde can feel everyone's stares but she refuses to tear her attention away from Rachel. Her heart has to work against the pressure closing in on her chest. Rachel's pleas rally a certain part of the pianist, the side of Quinn that wants to give her _everything_ from the house in the suburbs to the midnight snacks after some frantic public performance.

See I'm circling these patterns

Living out of memories

I'm still a long way from accepting it

That there's just no you and me

Rachel shakes her head angrily on that last line. A tear slides down her cheek and her mind naturally finds a sanctuary and comfort from the past. She remembers being in Quinn's arms when the blonde once pulled her away from incoming traffic. The most important part was the concern: how the pianist swore that she would never let anything harm Rachel and that she couldn't see a future without Rachel. The singer knows that they weren't lies but Quinn was so _complicated_, with intricacies that would confuse the greatest chess player. Quinn would never change the position of the pieces on the board when her opponent wasn't looking, but she might choose to surrender _even_ if she could win. The blonde always seems to factor in that current victories weren't always the most important thing, that maybe it was the subsequent smile on her opponent's face that was. But Rachel can tell from the harsh breathing that Quinn is having trouble keeping her emotions separate from her rational frame of mind. And that gives the brunette the sense to keep going.

But if I still believe you love me

Maybe I'll survive

Quinn whimpers. It's barely audible but it vocalizes her weakening. She wants to harden her gaze and snarl, so that the singer could believe the lie, that she doesn't love her. It would make it easier for Rachel to move on. _Easier, _that's all the blonde really tries for these days because her vision of _better_ laid with the singer.Rachel's smile is bittersweet because it means that Quinn wasn't successful. Love is written on both their faces.

So I tell myself you're coming home

Like you've done a million times

And if it's alright

I'll still be loving you

'Cause I can't break it to my heart

Rachel takes a moment. She holds her hands locked together to avoid straying to the blonde. She so desperately wants to wipe away the tears and caress the tension out of that strong porcelain jaw.

Is it just me?

Did I commit a crime?

The question is the first moment when a spark returns to Quinn's hazel eyes. The pianist is furious at herself for letting the singer feel guilty of something. It was never supposed to play out like that. Quinn was the self appointed villain in this story because she never wanted Rachel to wonder, regret or look back. The blonde had wanted to force the singer into a situation of zero control, so that Rachel felt no responsibility and no burden. She could be innocent in this moment, knowing that she wasn't the one to walk away from. Instead years later, she could write Quinn off as just another bad decision.

However right now, the heartbreak too much. God knows, that it cripples Quinn.

I won't believe that loving you

Is just a waste of time

Or was it in my head

I'm reading into things that you never said

Both girls let the lyrics bring them to a different place. Rachel is back in her house, that night, after Quinn left, trying to find meaning in the silences and the looks. She's looking for anything to contradict the blonde's demand for a breakup. On the other hand, Quinn is in Finn's bedroom running back every conversation in the last week or so. She is punishing herself for not discovering the singer's secret sooner, wondering if it would change anything.

'Cause I still don't have the answers

To why we couldn't work it out

Disbelief tinges Rachel's voice and she takes a step closer to Quinn.

I want to think it's something that I did

So I can turn it back around

Quinn opens her mouth to say something other than an apology but her voice is hoarse and nothing comes out. Her expression is no longer calm and she looks desperate to stop the onslaught of emotions. She recalls that it is always so hard for her to deny Rachel Berry because honestly, the brunette had a large effect. She could make the blonde _furious_, force her to be uncompromising and deliver her moments of complete and utter joy. The entire range is only amplified when the diva sings…

But if I still believe you love me

Maybe I'll survive

So I tell myself you're coming home

Like you've done a million times

And if it's alright

I'll still be loving you

'Cause I can't break it to my heart

Resisting Rachel is a nearly impossible task, like going against the rapids but Quinn clings to the idea that things will be better long term for the singer like a life raft. She imagines Rachel _content_ and _unhindered _in her preparation for her first big Broadway play. She imagines the freedom in the brunette when people invite her out for a night in the city. The singer could meet new people and go out for drinks with the boy or girl that might somehow be lucky enough to fit her criteria. She could _reach her dreams without _being tethered to a weight in another state. With each line of the singer, Quinn works that much harder to convince herself that this future is worth it.

And nothing will come between us

I want to convince myself we're perfect in

Every single way as long as I can keep

The truth away from my heart

Oh 'cause I can't break it to my heart

The volume dies down and the air gets heavier. Rachel's voice softens and becomes a little more fragile. It shocks everyone. Kurt's eyes keep flickering between the two girls confusedly. Finn and Kelsey share a look, wondering how to keep Quinn afloat for the coming days. They want to admonish Rachel for singing, and reversing any remnant of healing that could have occurred in the last two days. However, at the same time they can acknowledge that it's important that they both have this moment, a last chance to make a charge across the trenches to save a rare relationship. Brittany watches the short singer with rapt attention. She's crying because it is _so_ depressing and because she knows that the song won't change anything. Brittany can see it. Quinn wants Rachy to have the best possible chance and Rachy is easily influenced. It leaves less than a handful of solutions. One seat over, Santana hugs her girlfriend to her side and turns her head to look at Quinn. This is one of the times that her captain lets her down, because she doesn't agree with what's happening and she won't pretend to understand.

'Cause I still don't have all the answers

To why we couldn't work it out

I want to think it's something that I did

So I can turn it back around

Rachel looks away for a second. It the final verse and the thought is daunting because Quinn still sits in her chair, refusing to change her mind. The brunette almost chokes on her sob. It really is the end. At the very least, she knows just from this performance that it's not that lack of emotions that is the reason for this. Quinn _loves _her, so much so that she can tell herself to commit to a seemingly wrong decision. Rachel will never forget this relationship. She doubts anyone in the room would either. Even Puck seems captured by the despair.

But if I still believe you love me

Maybe I'll survive

So I tell myself you're coming home

Like you've done a million times

Home. Quinn has had to change so many: Bellevue, the Fabray house, Finn's house and Puck's house. So the definition of the word seems fluid, however the most recent segment of her life is the most stable. She lives with her mother in a large manor; they're building their trust again. And it's in this time, that she starts and experiences devotion to Rachel Berry. So while, the blonde would never say something as corny as, home is where the singer was, she _can_ believe that her mind has associated the happiest memory of her High School career to be when Rachel and the Fabray home coincide together. So it could be when the singer baked with Judy in the expensive, neglected kitchen or when the brunette is in Quinn's room, waking or sleeping in her bed. The blonde tries gracefully to wipe away the tears. She holds Rachel's gaze and absorbs the last lines. The singer takes on last step forward and reaches out; covering Quinn's clasped hands with hers.

And if it's alright

I'll still be loving you

They watch the changes on each other's face intensely. Rachel pauses, not knowing how to handle the end. She sings the last line and collapses into herself.

'Cause I can't break it to my heart…

The brunette whispers in a lost tone.

"Come home, Quinn. Just… don't go."

With that, Rachel is done; she buries her head into the pianist's lap. Her body is wracked with sadness and she's openly sobbing now. The tears slide down her cheeks to the collar of her jumper. It'll interest her later to know that this was one of the few pieces argyle clothing that Quinn gave her for Christmas. When she does realize, she'll cry some more. Her fathers, Santana and Brittany would hover worryingly by the door.

The blonde can barely string her thoughts together. She looks down at Rachel and for a moment she can't comprehend that she's the reason for all of this. She can't fathom why Rachel is upset and automatically wracks her brain on ways to chase the sorrow away. So many options raise themselves in her head and Quinn is shocked because she knows exactly what to do and say. She knows the words to say that will soothe Rachel's broken heart. She knows the touches that would drain the tension away and she_ so badly _wants to carry them out. As she is about to, she is once again hit with the memory.

'_When I can finally feel something; I'm going to cry. I going to yell and I'm going to be so damn angry at you, Quinn…'_

It astounds Quinn that the singer can have such a complete understanding of herself. It must be nice. The blonde thinks that if she knew back then that she would be so selfless now, she might have chosen to go another direction. Maybe she would have ignored Rachel more and helped Finn less.

In the end, it isn't true, because despite the ache, Quinn values her time with Rachel more than anything. People come and go out of your life, but it's the ones that teach you to see the world through different frames that will always be there in the corner of your mind. And Quinn welcomes the presence.

'_Promise me one thing Quinn. When I break into pieces in front of everyone, don't be kind… don't be considerate…just…don't be you… I need you not to care, or I won't make it through this…"_

She recalls Rachel's begging tone with the request. She recalls agreeing…and it occurs to her that Rachel used her knowledge of herself to help make things a little easier all along for both of them. Maybe even then, Rachel knew their personalities so well that she could foresee Quinn's tendency to comfort and her own need for distance. So on the off chance that the blonde did really choose this outcome. She didn't want to make this process crueler. Quinn closes her eyes in the knowledge of this. She feels Rachel's warmth on her lap and she tries to summon up Quinn Fabray, the HBIC. She tries to operate on borrowed instructions from the singer; untangling their hands and lightly pushing the brunette's shoulders back. Quinn says nothing as she stands up and walks out. She doesn't look back and her approach leaves a coldness that sets into the room.

Once outside, the blonde would run down the halls and eventually collapse against a locker. She'll sit there with her legs drawn to her chest and cry silently, finally letting her responses out.

/

"What do you think you're doing Q? Are you really that dumb? Do you want to be unhappy for the rest of your life?"

Santana voice rings out after finally catching up with her friend. The Latina had followed Quinn, annoyed and incredulous. Her vigor dies a little when she actually looks over the pianist. She wonders what such a profound sense of desolation must feel like. Her friend is quiet, broken and hopeless. It caused Santana to sigh and run her hand through her hair tiredly. She hates to say it but she doesn't know how to deal with this version of Quinn, Brittany does. It's rare that the blonde gives up on anything let alone something that clearly matters so much. The Latina seats herself on the ground opposite the other girl, softening her voice. They share a glance and Quinn reads her friend; the way Santana subtly looks down and rubs her jaw agitatedly. And Quinn figures it out. Her friend knew about Julliard. Rachel must have told the other girl first. Quinn lets out a bitter chuckle and turns her head away to stare at the distance. She supposes that it's better this way because then she didn't have to explain the situation. Santana softens her voice.

"The world is going to stop giving girls like us second, third or _fourth_ chances, Q."

Quinn nods slowly to herself before directing her gaze on her friend.

"I know. But, you wouldn't let Brittany give up Julliard either."

Santana shakes her head at the comment, waving the thought away.

"So what! Then long distance your relationship! Couples in those flicks do it all the time. Hell, see each other on weekends and holidays. I don't care. It's not an excuse!"

"Couples _in movies_ San!"

The interrupting blonde yells in frustration. Her voice bounces of the nearly empty hallways. It was still far too early for students of McKinley to drag themselves to school. Santana flinches minutely at the force of the pianist's reply but she refuses to change her stance. There's a silence and Quinn remembers to feel guilty about the harshness of her outburst. _She's just so tired. She doesn't know how much longer she can defend her position._ Instead after a few minutes she'll try again, because Santana is her oldest friend and someone Quinn trusts unconditionally for the important things. And, Rachel Berry is more than important.

"Listen to yourself for a second."

The Latina looks up, nodding to show attention. Quinn smiles gratefully.

"You know Rachel by now. Tell me what's going to happen?"

Santana tilts her head in confusion and the blonde shakes her head roughly. Her voice grows more anxious with every word.

"Is she going to do all the things she thought she would? Is she going to form friendships with the cast, have nighttime practice sessions with the band and go to off Broadway shows for fun _if we are still together_?"

Santana doesn't know how to respond to the pointed question. She doesn't even know the answer but Quinn _does. _The blonde teaches her a crash course on Rachel Berry. Quinn explains with a strange sort of patience and a sad love in her eyes.

"No Santana, because she's going to rush back after her last class, _every night,_ to talk to me on the phone or on the computer. She'll be in New York without _actually being in New York_ and let's face it what's the point in that? …It's not what she wanted, but right now she just can't see it."

The break in Quinn's husky tone hits the Latina and Santana berates herself for not being more understanding. She might not know Rachel but she should have known Quinn. _So damn moralistic and self-sacrificing… _So she is angry with herself for not seeing it coming. How Julliard and Quinn was going to play out. She thinks that maybe she has dedicated too much time to helping the singer that she has forsaken her best friend. And, she understands her irritation at the sight of Kelsey and Finn next to Quinn. She thinks that it should have been Brittany and_ her._ So she asks the first thing in her mind.

"What do you want us to do, Q? Rachel's been sleeping over and watching movies with Brittany for the last week. I don't hate the girl anymore but you're always going to be our number one. We could give her to Kurt and Mercedes to look after."

Quinn lets a slow smile appear on her face. Her eyes are slightly warmer as glances at her friend. The thing with Santana is that she is fiercely loyal and that they were friends when they _both_ hated themselves. At their lowest points they fought, they scratched and circumstances forced them stay together. Quinn taught the Latina how to center and focus her anger so that it didn't take over her life. Santana gave the blonde somebody to trust when living up to parental expectations was just a little too hard. And perhaps if Brittany didn't exist and if Rachel didn't give second chances, the girls might have ended up in a different sort of relationship… _maybe a romantic one_. So without a thought, they'll always be in each other's corner. Quinn acknowledges this but she won't take any support away from Rachel. Knowing that her friends are there is enough for now.

"No, don't. Kurt and Mercedes… they're good people, but they don't understand Rachel the way she is now. They'll just tell her that it gets better and that Julliard is the only choice. Maybe they'll even bitch about me a little. Rachel will need that sometime later, but not yet."

Quinn's glad that the singer has Brittany and Santana because they are different, the perfect complement of care and strength. The Latina lets out a grunt of agreement but she still seems to dislike the idea. She wears frown lines and pursed lips. The blonde thinks that the Latina might just be being stubborn now, but it's all right because she's happy to make her friend understand. She'll show Santana why she was so angry on the behalf of the singer. There's a moment of thought, before Quinn brings it up.

"Santana, tell me something is Rachel your friend?"

The Latina glares at her friend. The blonde ignores the look and continues.

"Forget about me for just a second and just give me an answer."

Santana takes longer than she needs to deliberate but Quinn gives her the time anyway. She lets the Latina have illusion that it's a hard question and believe that she hadn't always been Rachel's friend. The reality is that she became Rachel's real friend when she found out about Julliard and decided to keep it from Quinn.

"Yeah Q. the Midget is my friend, I hate to admit it but – "

"She grows on you."

Quinn finishes with a wistful smile. Santana stops her motions and thinks about the words before nodding in resignation.

"Yeah."

In the distance they can hear the screech of car tires and the chatter of students. The girls realize their time is up and slowly they get to their feet. As they do Quinn replies naturally.

"Then Santana, trust that. Comfort her. Protect her. Eat ice-cream and watch sad movies. Just _be_ her friend because she really needs some."

Quinn turns in the direction of her first class, using her fingers to clean up the wet changes to her mascara. She tells herself to breathe because losing it in the company of friends was one thing, she couldn't do so in front of the whole school. Santana hand catches her elbow before she takes the step. She turns around and dark eyes bore into hers.

"What about you Q?"

Quinn smiles despondently.

"Maybe I don't deserve to feel good just yet. But either way I have Kelsey and Finn."

Santana raises an eyebrow at the names. Quinn can understand her doubt and confusion. Experience has shown the girls that they weren't the most dependable. But Rachel has taught them both to discard the past and base their judgment on the here and now. Quinn explains.

"He's grown up more than you and I thought."

"Whatever you say, Q."

Santana shrugs. A thought strikes her for a moment and she tightens her grip on her friend to force the next statement in.

"But… talk to them if it helps, because _you don't deserve to hurt either_."

Quinn says nothing. She's not sure if she believes it but Santana is never one to take no for an answer. Quinn gives her friend peace of mind and assents. At the very least, she'd have people she didn't have to pretend in front of. After she agrees, Quinn walks away. Santana stands rooted in her spot, watching the retreating figure. She thinks about the last year.

_Rachel Berry made Quinn Fabray a better person, in every way. However, in the end, it is that better person that broke both their hearts. How's that for irony? _

_/_

Time continues to pass by like nothing changed. It astounds the girls because even in their own agony it's almost a wake-up, maybe the first signs that things _will_ be okay. They'll survive. It's gearing towards graduation for the seniors as kids run around making last minute robe rentals and finalizing meaningful contributions to each other's yearbooks. This period of time belongs to them as juniors, sophomores, and freshman step down and blur into the busy background. It's almost as if when there an actual end in sight, the world seems to rush to catch up. The blonde wants just a little longer with Rachel, even when they don't speak and don't touch.

Quinn sighs against the cold. She didn't really know how she ended up in the park bench opposite the Berry residence in the middle of the night. She can't even tell you how long she's been here, staring at the fun coloured curtains and the silhouettes behind them. The blonde can imagine that they've probably just finished their dinner and Hiram and Rachel would be putting on a show as Leroy cleared the table. This concocted scene is based on the pianist's experience. It reminds the blonde just how close she came to becoming a permanent part of the singer's life. For a second, Quinn's breath catches, she thinks that she sees a head pop out to check the windows. Her back straightens up and she knows that she should leave.

_Tonight_, she doesn't listen to common sense.

It takes several minutes and she thinks that maybe it was a trick the mind. Or maybe her guilty conscience was trying to punish her some more, it wouldn't be the first time since her words to the singer and it wouldn't be the last. However, sooner rather than later, a tall figure comes out in a thick woolen jumper and winter pants, _Leroy. _The father is busy trying to warm his hands as he walks over to her seat. Quinn is frozen, choosing to simply stare blankly into the distance. She doesn't know how to interact with the parent of the daughter's heart she broke. Would there be yelling or silent accusations?

Neither really happens. The African American throws a worn fleece jacket to the blonde and sits on the opposite side of the bench. There's a large amount of space between them and it almost feels like they're two soldiers on different sides of a war, sharing a story to get them through all the sounds of screams, loss and bullets firing. Leroy turns his head to look at Quinn. His eyes are warm but muted.

"Hi."

Quinn chuckles, she didn't know why but she imagines something grander to come from the father but every member of the Berry family continues to blindside her. By the end of her thought, all she says is a simple response.

"Hey."

It seems to be some sort of icebreaker as both parties relax into their seats a little more. Quinn finally looks the father in the eye, swallowing thickly. Her eyes tear up at the lack of anger and blame in his stance. Her voice is soft and husky. She might not understand everybody's reactions but there's only one that really matters.

"How is she? Rachel?"

Leroy's face-hardens minutely. The father is bombarded with memories of the past few days. He remembers returning with Hiram that night, finding Rachel sobbing and inconsolable on the floor. She was still in her National's costume but makeup ran streams down her cheeks. The kind men tried to coax her out and understand the situation, but if anything it made it worse. Until finally the brunette must have tired of their comforting tones because Rachel got up and ran out of the house. She told them both not to follow. Despite the strange hour, Leroy was just thankful for Quinn's message on the answering machine, softly whispering where his little girl was, Santana Lopez's house. He couldn't figure out for the longest time why she apologized tearfully at the end. The father received his answer the next day when Rachel returned temporarily. Since then, it has just been a constant push to bring a smile back to his daughter's face.

But any kind of unhappiness he had towards the blonde disappears with the sight of her on the park bench. Quinn is barely put together with pale skin and baggy eyes. Her mouth seems trapped in a frown and she's not the confident girl he thought he knew. Leroy wonders if he should lie to spare her feelings but the way her brows seem to furrow in thought and the care in her expression helps him decide in honesty. He tries to be gentle.

"She looks just like you Quinn, broken, defeated and lost. Rachel cries herself to sleep every night, she barely eats during the day and she hugs your lettermen…_when thoughts of you are just a little too much."_

Each description feels like a stab to the heart and Quinn begins to notice the lack of air. A whimper escapes and the misery is overwhelming.

"I – I – _I'm s_orry…"

Leroy smiles softly at the apology, shaking his head slightly.

"You don't have to be."

Quinn looks up in surprise at the comment. Upon her disbelief, Leroy tries to explain. He wonders how it is possible for a person to punish herself so much as Quinn does.

"Hard as it may be for Rachel to understand, you did the best thing for her. Giving up your happiness for her dreams? Staying centered enough to withstand the pleas and onslaught, that, you no doubt had to go through that night? You must really love my daughter…I think… I finally understand how much."

Quinn is quiet. Somehow, Leroy's revelation makes it more confronting. There's euphoria because it means that their love was powerful enough to translate to other people. She's comforted by the fact that in the years to come she wouldn't be the only one to remember that something wonderful was born from the hallways of McKinley and misguided bullying. And then, there's despair because the loss of it seem so much worse.

"Thank you, Quinn."

Leroy whispered, as he rubbed his jaw. A layer of moisture covers his eyes and he's far more emotional than either of them expected. The blonde extends her hand, in an attempt to say something, do something kind; but she hesitates. She sees the African American raise his hand to stop her, only to smile gently. His expression is parental as he shakes his head. It shouldn't be _her _job to take care of everybody. He takes her hands in his and looks into her eyes. He wants to make sure of her understanding because _sometimes_ the end, the breakup and the process of giving up, colours what should have been happy memories, badly. He never wants that to happen to the girls because what they have is special.

"Just…_thank you._ Rachel, sometimes lacks the foresight to understand the long term and that's probably Hiram and mine's fault for indulging her so much when she was young. We just wanted to give her everything to show her that as long as she believed and trusted in the good in people; _life would somehow be easier_."

The father is blaming himself and Quinn smiles because she can't understand why. Flaws make a person, and perhaps her greatest one is that she's not brave enough to go after the possibility of happiness when probability dictates otherwise. Because in the end, Rachel could be right, there might be _the slightest chance_ that a long distance relationship or _not_ going to Julliard could work in their favor. A thought crawls into the pianist's mind.

"Do you think that she'll ever forgive me?"

Leroy sighs.

"I'd like to say that she will, Quinn. But, Rachel…she still has a lot of growing up to do. I don't think she's had enough time alone to learn _how to be herself_ in the face of others. If that makes sense?"

Quinn tilts her head. Leroy nods at her gesture; he's probably the best person to talk to because they share similar views. Their roles in their respective relationships put them into a position of knowing. Sometimes it's easier to share that information and it relieves tension for both of them. It's been hard for Leroy to watch Rachel's pain and silently agree with the situation. He shouldn't argue with Hiram about the validity of Quinn's decision when they're alone, but he does. And the blonde just needs someone she doesn't have to persuade to her side.

"My daughter has a confident personality but so much of that is limited to her music. When she's not singing, she's easily lost sometimes because she doesn't yet understand the difference between the notions my, your and our. Rachel thinks that when you're in love that they're all the same thing. It's not true…"

Towards the end of his spiel, Leroy eventually realizes the silence emanating from the blonde.

"I'm sorry. I've been rambling."

"No, it's alright. Hearing you talk about her is about as close as I can get right now."

Quinn responds, exposing a brave smile. The father glances sadly.

"Her terms or yours?"

Quinn lets out a tired breath.

"Does it matter?"

The question makes Leroy think. There's a sense of surrender in her tone and he hopes that it won't be there forever. Maybe with the right person or maybe in time, Quinn could learn to open up again. Eventually he answers her question.

"No, I suppose not."

They fall into a comfortable silence and sit there for a while on opposite ends of the bench. Five blue, two yellow and one black car goes past. The angle of the shadow shifts around on the ground and eventually it's early morning. Leroy checks his watch and thinks he should leave. Quinn stays the same. The wind blows wisps of hair to her face but she is numb to the feeling. The father decides to give her any sense of peace he can.

"Quinn, to answer you question. For a long time, she's probably going to hold onto this heartbreak and blame you for giving up. At one point, she might even hate you."

Leroy watches the words cut the blonde and he is sorry. He thinks that she knew anyway because she doesn't seem surprised. However, he can show her something else that she refuses to consider.

"But, the fact remains, Quinn. One day, after so many other performances, she'll step onto the stage and for a second, her happiness, her exhilaration and her love of performing will all _fall into place_. In that moment, Rachel will register that _you_ brought her there…I think she'll finally understand."

/

On graduating day, the seniors get the day off. The ceremony is in the afternoon but glee members gather in the choir room to practice their last song. Lauren and Puck playfully throw barbs at each other, Tina and Mike take last minute photos all around the room and Mercedes and Kurt fix little accessories on each other to make their robes a little distinct and unique. Brittany and Santana try to keep Rachel's attention and stretch her cautious smile from their antics. This image of everyone is beautiful and probably the last one of all of them together for a little while. For a moment it's too much, the blonde steps out of the room and out to the bleachers.

It feels like a full circle because on the third row from the front was exactly where she sat the day before the first day of the school year. She half expects Sue to pop out from behind. The pianist covers her face and takes a deep breath. She marvels at the grandness of green field. Surprisingly it seems very different. Quinn takes the time to notice the random patches of mud that as the result of many ribbed shoes digging into the starting lines. It's reassuring that know that there is physical evidence of the past year because Quinn's hardly the same person anymore. For better or for worse… The blonde sighs at the thought, laying her head on the seat behind.

_The sun feels warm._

Suddenly, a brown envelope is waved in front of her eyes and she hears a familiar gruff voice.

"Here."

"What's this?"

Quinn takes the envelope with a raised eyebrow. She doesn't get any answers, as Santana stands opposite. The Latina has her arms crossed and she looks strangely determined. The blonde slips the paper out and as she reads; her friend voice only confirms the words on the page.

"My acceptance of UCLA's law school offer."

Santana watches Quinn freeze. Shock overtakes porcelain features. After all the years together, the Latina can't say that she doesn't get some kind of perverse joy every time she manages to surprise the blonde. She thinks that in the carefully crafted world of control in Quinn's mind, it is her job as the best friend to rock the boat and subtlety prepare the pianist for something different.

"What? Santana, don't be ridiculous. You got into NYU. You and Brittany are going to New York with..."

_Rachel._ The unspoken name lingers on her lips. Quinn is suddenly silent, struck with the reminder that soon she might not be the person held so close to the singer's heart anymore. The blonde thinks that given the time the brunette will learn to loosen her hold on memories of their high school fairy tale and let someone else in. Quinn wonders if she'll know intrinsically when that moment happens, despite the distance keeping them apart. Taking mercy, Santana interrupts the blonde's thoughts.

"Brittany is still going with Berry to Julliard but someone's got to make sure that you don't do anything stupid..."

The Latina finishes with a smirk. She thinks that the pianist is a million and one things but stupid isn't even on the list. From childhood piano lessons to entertaining each other's grandchildren decades down the line, Santana refuses to let Quinn Fabray turn the world away. The pianist feels just as strongly in the other direction, she'd never let Santana make the mistake in thinking she could survive well without Brittany riding shotgun next to her.

"Santana! Stop. I can't let you do this."

The phrasing of it causes the Latina to snap, taking bold steps forward.

"See now Q that's where you're wrong I ain't Berry or any other person who's still a little terrified of you. You can't make me do anything. If I wants to go to UCLA there ain't a thing you can say or do to stop me. And guess what, I _wants_ to go UCLA, _with you_."

The girls barely argue and when they do, Santana often defer to Quinn's better judgment. Not this time. And maybe the Latina has been listening to too many of Rachel Berry's rants and spiels of late, but she agrees on one integral point; _Quinn isn't always right, _especially this time_. _Noticing the lack of response from the blonde, Santana sits down next to her and tries again. She'll be sarcastic, caustic and persistent until the pianist gives in and accepts that at least for the next four years she won't be alone.

"You're my best friend Q, _even_ when I couldn't be anything but angry at the world. And Britts? She understands."

The blonde sighs, attempting to shake her head. Before she can get anything out, the Latina grabs her hand and controls her attention.

"Britts and I are going to try long distance. I'm going to visit her anytime I can, in the holidays and over long weekends. Maybe one day you might even drag your ass with me and get Berry back."

Quinn doesn't say anything but for a little while her heart beats twice as fast. Maybe its hope or maybe its fear, she hasn't a clue. Santana places a hand on the blonde's shoulder as she stands up. The pianist looks up and the Latina finishes her statement.

"But, on the off chance that you don't come with, I guess…that's ok too."

The interesting thing is that Santana honestly believes that. She thinks that her friend could still find someone that would make her days easier and bring smiles to her face even if it weren't Rachel. Quinn could be happy; she just wouldn't be at her happiest. And in the grand scheme of things, considering the amount of people that actually end up with their soul mates, it's not necessarily the worst thing that could happen. The Latina would not force Quinn's hand but she'll always remind the blonde of the offer to come along _every time_ she leaves to visit New York.

/

When the girls get back to the main hall, everyone is waiting. Principal Figgins stands skittishly at the podium, waiting for his students to be seated. He won't say it out loud, but this group of seniors has been his favourite. They've given him high blood pressure, nightmares about nocturnal creatures and convinced him that every now and then there's a select group of people who have more power than they thought, _enough to change the world_. He won't ever say it _out loud,_ because what would that encourage? As interesting as the year was, he missed the monotony of the classically wide-eyed students, where the biggest drama was the race to be the it-girl and to be the quarterback.

"Quiet, please children. Before I begin I like to say that you will have to drink muddy water no more; the pipes to the water fountains have been fixed. And now, seniors, welcome to your 2012 graduation."

The loud cheers drown his voice out. The parents laugh at the rowdiness of their children and some even join in; they remember the significance of the moment from their high school days. Due to an alphabetical arrangement members of the glee club are interspersed widely in the main area. Somehow, they still manage to catch each other's eyes, sending votes of confidence and luck. Quinn wonders if she should look in the singer's direction. She doesn't want to do more damage. However as the pressure begins to build behind her eyes she throws caution to the wind, because, if this was to be their last hours together she would give all of herself…_The blonde looks up to find that Rachel had been staring at her all along. _In a vague part of their mind, they register the principal speaking.

"And now your resident softball and ex-cheerleading coach would like a word."

Sue strides confidently on stage. She pushes away the stagehand that tries to give her some reminders on the school's policy on swearing. The applause is mixed as confused students prepare themselves to be berated. To their credit they don't flinch when her icy blue eyes scans their faces. The room is soundless.

'Sit up straight people! And for the love of God stop looking like timid little puppies. I'm not going to eat you."

Only those that actually know the coach find the courage to chuckle and roll their eyes. Quinn, Santana, Brittany and all the other ex-cheerios and softball players focus their attention. They feel a strange sort of respect towards the psychotic woman that brought them here, introducing them to the rigors and pressures of hierarchical existence. Sue actually looks uncomfortable, spitting out the next words but she cares enough about this group to try.

"I just wanted to say that it was a pleasure to guide you through the last four years. Even if my ears still bleed from your girlish squeals and even as I want to bang my head against a wall for listening to your petty squabbles, I'm glad that my job forced me to be here five out of seven days each week."

Sue shuffles, straightening the creased from her tracksuit. She tells herself to be stoic, refusing to give in the blush spreading up her neck. There's a tinge of emotion to her words and she tries to shake it off. _Her girls smile gratefully at the effort_ when everyone else is dumbstruck. Sue thinks about leaving before turning around to issue one last command.

"So hold your head high. You will _not_ trip. After all the time I've wasted on you lot… go out there and make something of yourself!"

It's the first time her presence is met with a deafening roar. As she walks off she meets the eyes of three girls, Brittany, Quinn and Santana. They nod back. Sue walks away, shaking hands with Mr Schue and Miss Pillsbury along the way. The principle returns to the stage.

"And now, I am going to call out your names. Please come up one by one to get your diplomas. Boys – no funny business. Girls – check your face powder and wear your best smile."

The students chuckle. They decide not to correct the man's awkward attempt at being engaging. Instead, they bite their bottom lip nervously and wait to hear their name. Despite the large amount of people in between, there are thirteen performers who stand out. Principle Figgens starts patiently for the boy in the wheelchair.

"Arthur Abrams."

Artie glides over the ramp in a practiced motion. His smile is unshakeable and his vehicle is mesmerizing. Peoples eyes are attracted to the multicolored flashing lights attached to his wheels that they forget to feel sympathetic for awkward that he is a cripple. It is a notion that might have been uncomfortable normally.

"Rachel Berry."

The brunette walks to the skittish man. She's poised and seeming collected. She shakes the principal's hand and at the insistence of her classmates, even takes a small curtsy. However, friends and family will notice that her eyes are dull and her happy mask slips when you're not looking. Quinn is rooted to her place. The sight of the singer under any light is more than enough to take her breath away. During the applause, she claps vigorously, somehow hoping that hers would make it to Rachel's ear. The blonde is proud and ecstatic for the singer despite the tear that runs down her cheek and painful clench of in her heart.

"Mike Chang."

The quietly supportive Asian walks on stage. He lets his parents take the obligatory picture with the principal and then he pauses. He holds his certificate in front and does a wavelike popping dance motion causing it to disappear behind his back and reappear in the inside of his robe pocket. Everyone laughs and gives him a pat on his back when he makes it back to the rest.

"Tina Cohen-Chang."

She's perhaps the simplest one among the group, taking everything with a shy grace. When she reaches out to shake Figgin's hand, the man almost shirks away. Fear laces his expression, as he remembers her vampire threat on his blood. Tina shakes her head amusedly at his reaction and even quickly leans over to capture him in a hug.

"Sam Evans."

The bottled blonde swaggers on stage. His excitement causes him to pump the principal's hand vigorously. The moment he realizes he apologizes profusely, offering to find the man an icepack and wondering if Figgins still had any power over his high school transcripts.

"Quinn Fabray."

The hall is silent. Seemingly it's out of deference and admiration but Quinn really doesn't understand why. She walks to the stage and thanks her teachers along the way. Sue throws something to her as she moves past. It's only later, after she's seated again that the blonde realizes that it the coach's whistle. Her eyes widen in surprise and she brings it to her head. She has so many memories. Rachel watches Quinn with the remains of love. The singer holds her breath until she's sure that the taller girl has gone through the process without accident. Quinn never finds out, but the singer is first to clap, pulling the rest of the auditorium out of their haze. She's the start to a loud vocalization of the blonde's importance in everyone's life.

"Finn Hudson."

The footballer moves cumbersomely up the stairs. He recalls Kelsey's instructions and lost in the memories of the redhead, he really does almost trip. However, glee club dancing must have improved his reflexes in some small way because he manages to catch himself in the last second. When he's standing he'll scratch the back of his head embarrassedly taking the certificate from the exasperated principal.

"Kurt Hummel"

The fashionable teen strides across the stage in his black robe, speckled with patterned squares and badges. He's unique for sure, an _unforgettable smattering of designs and visual input._ Kurt finishes every twist of his foot, every aspect of his movements with a flourish.

"Mercedes Jones."

The darker diva goes to Principal Figgin's with the knowledge and belief that her talents are great and that it'll get her to where she wants to be. She is the most self-assured, smiling and waving to her family.

"Santana Lopez."

The Latina is like a cat. Her motion is sleek and almost predatory as she goes to get her certificate. Santana nods to Mr Schue and takes the time to shake hands with Sue first. As strange as it sounds it was the irate coach that pushed her to do better; the only faculty member that spoke the same language of sarcastic and biting caring. After she receives her diploma from Figgins, she refuses to move off stage. The Latina waits where she is and stares the Indian man down. Eventually, the principal decides that protocol was more trouble than it was worth and calls Brittany up as well. He lets the girls _share _the stage and the experience like they do everything else.

"Brittany Pierce."

The dancer gleefully skips across. She hugs everyone she's ever spoken to along the way because she's just that kind and even if she can't remember their identities she recalls meeting them. It's either that or her happiness was just being exuded in the form of touch. The student body melts at the sight when the two girls meet up at the center. Brittany waves her diploma happily in front of the Latina's face bouncing on her feet. Santana's whole face softens. Her eyes glitter with devotion and she drags her girl into her arms.

"Noah Puckerman."

The self-proclaimed rebel looses the sluggishness in his usual motion. He actually tries to look presentable and behave respectfully for his nanna in the audience because his efforts were to give her a sense of peace. She didn't have to worry about him anymore because he got through school. This restrained version of him didn't last long. It's hard to stifle a strong personality. Puck ends up striking his best rock and roll pose after receiving the certificate.

"Lauren Zizes."

The wrestler walks on stage. She barely looks at anybody. Her movements are slightly robotic. She wants to finish this as quickly as possible; because the attention of the room is grating and she has a computer code to return to. Hers, is the last name signaling the end of the procession. Principal Figgins clears his voice and tries to speak over the chatter.

"Ahem. Thank you children. And now we have the New Directions finish the ceremony."

As the man shuffles away, the stage is quickly set with stools in a straight line. The glee club filter on stage with their robes unzipped and diplomas at their seats; refusing to let this performance be remembered as just another activity on the graduation itinerary. No, this was their last chance to perform as a group, at least for a little while. So they shed all other distractions, preferring to stay in their plain coloured t-shirts, reminiscent of earlier years. Somehow positions are allocated based on partnerships, with Puck at the left and Lauren on the right, Mike and Tina and so on. At the middle, Quinn and Rachel sit down next to each other. It's interesting, because they weren't a couple anymore but the rest of the world still perceives them as one, or as two people who _should be_. Rachel could have just as easily sat with Kurt and Quinn with Artie, but it wouldn't feel right. The girls wonder if the universe knows something they don't. They don't know how to function this close and their eyes seem determined to wonder.

There's a moment where the music first starts and a current runs rampant through their bodies. It breaks them all over again. They stop and _give in_, turning their heads to face each other. Glances, pained smiles and imperceptible nods express everything that they couldn't say. _I'm sorry. I love you. Please forgive me._ Still, it doesn't change anything.

I got this ticket in my hand

And I got a long, long day ahead

Mercedes starts softly. Her voice has levels that paint the scene for their little story. She is booked for a train ride exploring the southern belt. After countless sessions with Miss Pillsbury, she thinks that she needs time to understand how she wants to go about achieving her goals of becoming the next Mariah Carey. Sam's grins boyishly, as he picks up straight after her line. He remembers the hard times in with his family in motels and what it cost his family to stay.

And I got a hell of a lot of reasons to be sad

But I've got a hundred more that keep me coming back

Kurt reaches over to pat the blonde on the back. The group allows time for reassurances and signs of friendship sink in. Kurt then kicks his feet up in the air. The crowd shakes their head at the colour.

I got these worn out red boots on

And I got a brand new favourite song

Artie waits for his cue. He looks at Sue, some of the footballers and all the people who've ever told him that his disability would be the thing that would derail him from his goals.

And I can name some people who'd say that I got it all wrong

But I know plenty more who've been there all along

And with that, the wheel-chaired boy nods to his friends beside him and their music teacher at the back of the building. There are tears in Mr Schue's eyes. His students are vessels for change, _in a good way. _Brittany gives Artie a hug before directing her gaze at Santana. The girls stare at each other as if their existence depended on it and the love in their expressions cause everyone to relax into their seats.

I'd rather make sandcastles

Instead of these wide-world decisions

I knew, I knew it all was catching up to me, yeah

Santana's smile is wider than it's ever been and it's hard to believe that she was ever an angry teen. Brittany is innocent yet not quite. She understands the world better than most. Their voices blend into each other's. Puck gives the girls a wink before continuing. His voice is strong and deep, but most importantly honest. He's going to college, TAFE or whatever. No one in his family ever got that far and Puck truly has no ideas on what comes after. He'll take his guitar with him anywhere though.

And I don't have a plan at all

But I got this six-string religion

Finn follows his friend. The tall boy looks out to the section for friends and family. He nods to Burt and his mother. However when his eyes hit Kelsey, he begins to blush. His friends follow his gaze and most of them chuckle. Quinn closes her eyes and Rachel tries to exude a bright aura, they both don't want to be reminded of what they've lost.

And I do, I do believe a song can heal me

It's enough for me, yeah

Quinn can't help but let a small sigh escape when it's her turn. She's not ready but then again, maybe that was the point. This way, she can't hide behind anything. The blonde is about to start when she feels a warm hands cover hers and she looks up suddenly.

Rachel fills her vision and though the heartbreak is ever present in those warm brown orbs, the brunette is still trying to be her strength. And, in _every_ way, she still is because Quinn voice is thicker and clearer than usual. She only sings to one person. Their friends watch helplessly.

I had this picture in my head

Of where I oughta be and when

The girls share a wistful smile. They remember when the pianist used to be in her Cheerio's uniform in a tightly controlled state. The blonde used to orchestrate the school with social standing, beauty and a hint of fear. She had her whole life planned out before Rachel Berry. It had been simple, date the quarterback till the end of senior year, win prom queen twice in a row and then got to college where she could start anew. She only managed about half of each task. The singer somehow made it though the crevices of her existence and settled into her heart.

But it's just like the good advice that John gave when he said,

"Life, it happens while you're busy making plans"

Rachel's eyes are watery and she squeezes Quinn hand one last time before letting go. She lets herself fall deep into the chorus because the words ring true and she can't think of much else. It was easier, before career day and counseling session with Miss Pillsbury. Julliard's letter was the wake-up call that the singer never wanted to have as it reminds them they are growing older and that they couldn't construct their future on playground illusions anymore. Becoming an adult was hard.

I'd rather make sandcastles

Instead of these wide-world decisions

I knew, I knew it all was catching up to me, yeah

There's a small gap as Rachel falls silent. She chokes on that last word and can barely breathe through the ache in her chest. She's supposed to sing the next part and has missed the cue already. Thankfully the band has been with the glee club since the very start and they play the bridge again, hoping to give the singer a second opening. When it comes, the Rachel's shoulders are shaking and without any prompts, Quinn sings it for her. She can't stand to see the brunette struggle. By the second line, the group realizes what the blonde is doing and joins in as well.

And I don't have a plan at all

But I got this six-string religion

And I do, I do believe a song can heal me

It's enough for me, yeah

Rachel looks up at the end. There's love and gratitude in her eyes. Quinn just nods understanding. The singer is annoyed at herself for having so much trouble. She thinks that she has to deal with the fact that the blonde won't be around to save her from her mistakes anymore and that this isn't the ideal beginning. However, Quinn wants to stop those thoughts. She can read Rachel's expressions. The pianist takes a tan hand in hers and lifts it to her lips, placing a last soft kiss. The singer watches every movement and when her hand returns to her lap she realizes that it's wet…_Quinn was crying too._

In the back of their minds they register Tina starting the next verse.

Where I'm laughing is where I'm home

But you know how fast it makes the time go

Mike joins her. They're going to the same university. It has a wonderful arts program and a flexible science one. Despite their parents' disgruntled attitudes about the distance and the school's ranking; the couple is going to be fine. Their plans fit perfectly.

And there was nothing like the first time that I saw open road

And wasn't terrified to ride it on my own

The music starts to slow; the group seems to finally feel the end coming. There's some distress on their faces as they realize just how much they are going to miss each other. Quinn sings softly.

I got my heart in the right place

Rachel continues. Their friends watch with bated breath. They think that the two girls have no problem with emotion because they're open and bare on the stage. It feels like closure.

But that place is millions of miles away

Quinn takes a slow glance across the stage from left to right. She sees everyone's faces and finds it in her to finish. Their smiles tell her that it's all right. They're family so they won't be separated for too long. Puck will be back from his pool cleaning business in California for regular visits. Mike and Tina would get married in a ceremony where the glee members would get to be in the same space again and the others will find the time to schedule coffee meetings and catch-up phone calls. The blonde's voice breaks.

And I suppose I never will know the perfect words to say

Rachel smoothly picks it up. She gives Quinn a look that makes it feels as if everything would work out somehow. It takes half the weight off the blonde's shoulders, to share instead. And, the pianist has to wonder if she's ever going to fall out of love with Rachel Berry. She really doesn't want to.

But I'll keep searching till they find me one fine day

The last chorus comes around and the glee club accepts it with some sort of grace as they stand up and step forward. The senior class follows suit, getting on to their feet and clapping a beat to the song. The group grins because despite the lack of popularity associated with the club they were great enough to warrant this acknowledgement. _You know you want to be a loser like me. _They place their arms around each other's shoulders and sing from the place the music comes from.

I'd rather make sandcastles

Instead of these wide-world decisions

I knew, I knew it all was catching up to me, yeah

And I don't have a plan at all

But I got this six-string religion

And I do, I do believe a song can heal me

It's enough for me, yeah

Even at the end their gazes are still locked. Rachel smiles bravely, giving a small nod, whilst Quinn's eyes communicate gratitude. The blonde mouths a last confession_. _It has three words and _eight letters_. And when they assume the roles they were always meant to have, the painist hopes to see the singer's name on every famous marquee, because this will all be worth it. Wait, and we will all see.

/

In a car, heading off to New York, Rachel stares at the picture in her hand. It's the Polaroid from a long time ago, during the peak of Kelsey's insanity. It shows the image of a breathtaking brunette, as she's enrapt by something in front of her. Sometimes Rachel still can't believe that the girl in the picture is herself. She's the most vibrant and beautiful with Quinn. Turning the picture around in her hand, she'll laugh and cry at the inscription. In a neat no nonsense font is the blonde's handwriting.

_If you're ugly then I'm ugly too… If you see yourself the way that __**I always do**__…you'd wish you were as beautiful as you._

And, on the uncertain path to her future, Rachel holds it to her heart knowing that the pianist was so deep in love, even back then, _when nobody else knew_.

/

In a train to Los Angeles, Quinn and Santana share a carriage. The Latina is on her phone busy responding to every single one of Brittany's rapid texts. The corners of her eyes crinkle when she is unmistakably charmed by something the dancer sends. Quinn chuckles, shaking her head to the window she's looking out of. The trees and roads flash by in a blur of green and grey. And as she settles into her seat her hand goes into her pocket to take out her wallet. In a practiced motion, her fingers search and find a small scrap of paper. When Santana finally looks up she'll wonder how many times Quinn does this, because she _never_ has to look down. Whatever it is it is, its something powerful because the Latina watches as the frown lifts its hold on the blonde's pretty face. Worry lines smooth out and hazel eyes learns to hold slightly less pain.

In the years to come, Santana will one day have access to what was on the scrap of lined paper. She'll find it on her friend's desk, carefully kept under a glass paperweight. And she'll be surprised to learn that a name and a date that are the only things that keep the blonde going during their time apart. In a flourishing cursive it says…

_Rachel Barbra Berry's Forever 6/05/11_

/

THIS IS NOT THE END. I promised a happy ending, remember? =) See ya next time


	24. Chapter 24 Waiting for Change

Chapter 24 – Waiting for Change

So hello everybody…rumors of my death have been largely exaggerated! Nah, I was just having a bad semester for my grades and I needed to work my butt of to get it back up to par. Still don't know if that was a success or not, but we'll see. I once said that I would never abandon this story and that is still true.

Mr Grump – I think that you are correct in that people do misjudge Rachel and her strengths. But I guess the point for me wasn't if Rachel could handle a relationship and her dreams it was more about what she would have to sacrifice to do so. Maybe she shouldn't have to?

Silent Lucidity – You read my mind. Time jump and flashbacks ahead!

CarolineSC – Oh no! I hope you got through your work day ok.

You won't see an iguana here – KV is the best. High five! I love her lyrics. Sorry for the broken heart, I'll fix it I promise!

Phoebex13 – I liked writing the Quinn – Finn, Kelsey and Rachel – Brittany, Santana dynamic too. It was meant to be growth and the final integration in their lives. No worries I love long reviews, means I'm doing something right!

S8105 – Wifey! =) Thanks for the support, 500th comment is just awesome. UCLA alumni? That's cool, I think I would have liked to go there if I lived in America. Sorry for putting you through the tears but I'll make you smile, wait and see. It'll be worth it in the end of the story. Please still be reading =)

OK I will get this ball rolling. Thanks to every reviewer. I'm sorry if I don't have the room to respond continuously but I do read them! They kept me going. This is essentially a huge chapter about what happens in between. And, I hope that for those still reading, I don't disappoint. It was a hard thing to communicate a change in maturity and keep the essence for each character. I wanted Brittany to grow up a bit as well.

Anyways the songs in order are: You could be happy by snow patrol, Wanted you more by Lady Antebellum, Dancin away with my heart by Lady Antebellum and Tell her something by David Hodges (really love this).

/

Eight years pass before Quinn and Rachel see each other again. Time seems to stay constant, neither speeding up nor slowing down; at least not like it does in the movies.

/

In the city that never sleeps, Rachel Berry starts off in a depressing place. She's unable to function, laugh or sing because the pain from her high school romance is _still_ so acute. However, as tomorrows keep appearing, _it gets easier. _Somehow, the notion that Quinn isn't there with her_ becomes a little less crippling. _The perseverance of her friends drives her actions. Brittany gets her out of bed and to her classes, until the day where she can do it herself. With time, Rachel learns to treat her relationship with Quinn Fabray as _just a memory_, and not a tangible hallucination that she should hold on to. The singer figures her world out and how others factor into it. She can finally say no when she doesn't agree and yes when she does, no longer following the lead of whomever has her affections at the time. So when Leroy visits, he'll marvel at how much his daughter has grown up. Rachel is _finally_ comfortable with herself and it's all that he ever wanted for her.

Quinn is the one that surprises everyone. She's supposedly logical, confident and in some respects, wise beyond her years, but in college all that seems to run away from her. To her, time is not a generous gift. The blonde sets out with a stable mind and the firm belief that Rachel Berry was meant for greater things. Thoughts like that keep her afloat, keep her sane. Memories of their high school relationship play in her head in a romantic flickering black and white, giving her the strength to move along. So _at the start_, she's able to make friends, study hard and attend all the important social gatherings. However the problem with remembering paradise is that real life never seems to compare. Handsome boys and beautiful girls can come and go with their impressive gestures but Quinn won't be able to summon her interest. Her vivid recollection of her time with Rachel Berry traps her in a place where she doesn't know how to be happy anymore. Eventually everything comes to a head when one day the blonde looks around her dorm room and realizes that she doesn't want to be here; alone and without the singer. _She can't._

So with time, Rachel moves forward and Quinn regresses backwards. Somehow, in eight years, they meet up in the middle. They're older and different, but never quite strangers because the singer's eyes have remained kind and the pianist's love for music has endured. This is how they spent the interim.

_/_

_College (2013-2015) – Quinn _

Quinn can't tell you much about college. She remembers studying, going to classes and meeting some interesting people that could have been called friends. However, if you asked about her sense and feelings of the place, she'd look at you with a blank stare and the realization that she never really cared enough to embed herself in the life. Her problems had crept up on her without her permission. And in hindsight, Santana thinks that she should have seen the warning signs; there were _six._

_/_

The first happens during the Latina's earliest visit to Rachel and Brittany. True to her word, Santana asks Quinn to join her, and for a moment, they just stop everything. The silence is telling by itself. In the end, she's met with a polite declination and a quiet offer to help her pack. And as they carry Santana's luggage down the apartment steps, they talk of assignments and the weather, anything to avoid the heavy truth; that Los Angeles wasn't where the pianist _ought to be_…

Before the taxi pulls away from the curb, Quinn gives her friend a wrapped box with a conflicted far off stare. She claims that there's candy in there for the ride. Santana doesn't comprehend the strangeness of the moment until she reaches New York, where she's welcomed by hugs and mini-tours. There, the biggest thing that strikes her is how Rachel's presence seems to have shrunken. The singer seems almost meek and it brings a frown to her face. Santana remembers Brittany's stories of the brunette's inability to be happy, so when Rachel's eyes seem to light up upon the desserts in her hand, the Latina thinks that she _finally understands._ Moisture fills Brittany blue orbs because it's the first genuine smile she's seen on her wonderfully talented friend in a long time. Rachel would later go on to explain that it was the brand that her fathers had brought her in her childhood when they were away on business trips. It had been their sign of caring. But after the company suffered a financial loss, it had been difficult to find the candy anywhere.

When Santana offers, Rachel happily takes a few and retires to her room, to give the couple some alone time. And, that's when their grins begin to waver. Brittany takes the Latina's hand directing them to the couch.

"That was good San, Rachy hasn't smiled like that in a long time. Kurt and I couldn't get her to do it."

"…That's just it Britts. It _wasn't_ me."

"Quinn?"

Brittany asks in a knowing tone. She had figured it out the moment Rachel forgot to be sad. Since Lima, the dancer had spent the days trying to get the singer to let go of Quinn. It hadn't happened yet. Most of the time, Rachel just goes to school, eats lunch alone and practices in her room. However, Brittany refuses to give up on her friend because she knows how strong the singer _can_ be. The dancer will always choose to see the potential. So what if Rachel's grieving period was a little longer than usual? It could be said that Quinn Fabray and Rachel Berry's whole relationship was a little _more_ amazing than usual.

Santana, on the other hand doesn't say much, she doesn't know what to do. It just so figures that the person that breaks you into a million little pieces is the _best person _to put you back together. But hey, _for the first time in a while_ the singer is happy and the Latina won't begrudge Rachel of that. Santana knows that it might be wrong and unfair… but she lets Quinn continue to care, _if only to help the singer along._

/

It's now halfway through the year. The second sign leaves Santana with furrowed brows; lost on the sidewalk. The girls had just finished their end of term exams, going out with their friends to blow off steam and grab more snacks for their movie marathon.

Despite the chill, it is a great night because Santana and Quinn had never been this close. Maybe it was because the blonde was _finally _letting her friend in, during her dependency. In the end, it doesn't really matter, as for a rare moment things feel _ok. _Quinn is able to laugh and the Latina makes sure that it doesn't feel _like a crime_. As promised, Santana keeps her from doing anything stupid. Their friendship circles continue to overlap because the girls make an effort to stay close. Santana manages to loosen up some of the blonde's classmates and Quinn can quip and retort with the wittiest of the Latina's colleagues.

The energetic group somehow ends up in an ice-cream parlor, choosing the largest table. And Quinn Fabray must be something special because she carries the conversation well: garnering chuckles and other enthusiastic responses. It is such a skillfully crafted smokescreen that nobody but Santana notices the fact that Quinn _doesn't really eat ice cream anymore…_

/

The next sign is gradual. Santana doesn't realize until it is too late and the world forfeits another talented musician due to heartbreak.

The girls have Quinn's piano placed in their living room. Judy had insisted, claiming that this way they would always carry the glee club with them. One afternoon, Santana comes home. Her keys are at the door when the sounds of a tortured artist bleed through the cracks. There's an angry combination of notes that seems to thunder into the walls. When Santana walks in, Quinn is so immersed in whatever she's trying to create that she doesn't notice. Immediately, the Latina is hit with a wave of sadness. The image is quietly terrifying. The blonde is in a baggy tee with messy unkempt hair. There are tears streaming down her cheeks as she tries again and again to make the melody _work._ Something is wrong each time; even the Latina can hear it, though it changes _nothing_… Quinn would continue her efforts until the frustration encompass her entire being and the fatigue takes over…

Santana thinks that the moment might be private so she goes to her room. She takes her textbooks out and attempts productivity, all the while listening and _hoping _for her friend's success. It doesn't come; instead there is just an abrupt stop and then _silence. _Worried, the Latina opens her door… she gasps at the sight.

Incomplete music sheets are scattered _in all directions _like the remnants to some large explosion. She almost steps on the pencil lying near her feet. But perhaps the most striking part of it all was the blonde in the center. Quinn Lucy Fabray had her head cradled in her hands and she was _sobbing._

Afterwards, the instrument isn't touched again, and eventually when the girls run out of excuses they send it back to Lima. It was far too depressing to keep it.

Sometimes, when the Latina stands in the empty space of the living room, she'll remember their piano teacher's appraisal of the blonde all those years ago: _a technically brilliant musician, however her notes lack in any real substance. _In those moments, the Latina can't help but think that her friend has relapsed and that _this time_ Rachel Berry wasn't there to bring her back.

/

During their second year, Quinn meets an old friend and it puts her at a crossroad. She chooses whether or not to trust in a second, white knight. The decision is made with reason and a sense of surety. But even so, Santana _still_ thinks that it is a pity because this was the blonde's next best chance at happily ever after. It's the first time that the Latina wonders if anyone _other than _Rachel was even an option.

This is the fourth sign…

During exam season, students are milling about with bloodshot eyes and coffee stained tees. Quinn hurries off to the library with a stack of textbooks in hand. She loves this time of year because the business is just enough to combat the heartbreak; a momentary reprieve. She'll return to thinking about the singer afterwards because it's like breathing.

The shoulder strap on her bag starts to slip. The weight of her books cause her to teeter and time seems to slow. Something was going to drop. And maybe it was the caffeine in her system or the result of her sleep deprived state, but instead of setting her load down, she holds tighter in a stubborn effort. Netter's Anatomy is the first to go, setting a chain reaction for the rest.

As she waits for the last books to fall, she'll register that her reflexes aren't what they used to be. _Sue would be furious_. That thought alone, brings a slight grin to her tired face. Dragging herself back to reality, she'll notice that there is a person standing in front of her. He has her textbooks in hand and an amused smile. The light seems enhance the natural darkness of his hair and contrast the dips and ridges on his shirt. It's not a particularly tight piece of clothing but it was obvious that a fit body lay underneath. And after her initial surprise, Quinn registers her own ratty study clothes and she can't help but feel annoyance towards that familiar perfection.

"How long have you been watching me?"

A warm chuckle escapes. The boy tucks the blonde's books under his arms and holds his other hand out for her heavy bag. The action is fluid, natural and ingrained from years of practice, revealing some kind of shared history. And Quinn, who's probably the most independent girl, _acquiesces without thought, _trusting him with her belongings. She laughs softly when he pretends to buckle under the weight; he was always ever the comedian.

"I haven't been here too long. Just long enough to appreciate that cute little smile that came on your face."

And there it was, the careless flirting. It's like an old friend that causes both their spirits to lighten. Those compliments still cause the blonde to blush. Quinn has hidden so many things about her life in Bellevue from Lima. Lauren had managed to dredge some of it up in an attempt to stop her and bring her down to ground level. However, the techie wrestler continually missed the mark because _he_ was the only part of her old life that she didn't want to leave behind, one of her favourite regrets. His name was Tyler and he was so much more than a friend but never quite a lover.

"Yours isn't too bad either."

She manages to say under her smile. With her words, his whole outlook brightens. She's always had an effect on him. So, with an infectious enthusiasm, he bows deeply. He takes her hand and kisses it like a gentleman, before summoning an exaggerated voice. Tyler has every confidence that he still remembers how to make her laugh.

"Why thank you so much for the compliment dear lady. I shall spread it to the world!"

When he succeeds, a few heads turn at the ruckus. The blonde rolls her eyes fondly and other students are reminded of just how pretty she is when she isn't caught in between a wince and a frown. It's a rare sight.

In the time it takes for Quinn's tension to dissipate, they somehow make it to an empty bench. She nods gratefully. Quinn recalls a great many things, the most important of which is why they worked well as friends. Because, without any hints or questions, Tyler has led them to a secluded enclosure of the courtyard away from prying eyes and curious ears. Trees are situated so that their expressions are covered _just right _and the pianist finds her guard dropping…_it feels wonderful_. The dark haired boy gives her a moment before beginning.

"So, how have you been Luce?"

The understanding tone is what breaks her because it reminds her of the one other person that used it. Whilst Santana's understanding was in her actions, the singer's was always in her voice. The familiar nickname reminds her of a life before McKinley, when her biggest problem was bullies and Sunday school. It had been simpler, but the blonde has to admit it also would've been empty. Because, even if she had to become somebody she hated for a while, Quinn believes that she needed that new start in Ohio; _she needed to meet Rachel Berry._ The realization is heartbreaking in a new way because they couldn't keep it together. And now talking to Tyler, the blonde has to wonder… Quinn Fabray might have been a coward, losing the singer. But maybe, _Lucy_ could have been the version of herself to be courageous, naïve and passion-filled enough to hang on.

_Lucy_ would have gone to New York and taken a gap year before trying for NYU.

The pianist wished that she could have found out. Quinn often finds herself lost as to why she didn't show Rachel more about her past. Would it change anything? Would the brunette finally understand why Quinn has a learned helplessness towards happy endings? Tears unknowingly stream down her cheeks.

"Did I say something wrong? I'm sorry. Um – "

Tyler is worried, noticing the pain in his friend's expression. His mouth opens and closes as he racks his brain for ways to fix the situation. He's flustered and Quinn can't help but smile because indecision looks so wrong on him. He's a soccer team captain, homecoming king, and academic award winner. The dark-haired boy is normally confidant, justifiably so.

So the fact that he's stumbling over his words now, only shows how much he cares. Quinn whispers.

"It's _okay…"_

His blue eyes lock onto her hazel ones. There's a silence before she looks away. Her voice is shaky as she tries to explain.

"I just – I don't even remember the last time someone has called me that: _Luce_."

Tyler watches the blonde shrink into herself some more as she bites her lip and disappears into a daydream. Quietly he asks.

"Was who you were so horrible that you had to become someone else?"

A bitter laugh escapes. She turns to look at him.

"Horrible? No. But I didn't want to be _weak_ anymore. I didn't want to be_ dependent_. You couldn't protect me forever and I just_….I just wanted it to be different_."

Quinn expels. This would be the first time she's ever explained her leaving Bellevue to anyone. She had been ashamed about how she left. However, school was hard when you were overweight and in braces. _Children could be so cruel._ They would point and laugh, excluding her from parties and group projects. So when her only friend, Tyler, had soccer training, Lucy spent her school years eating lunch in a cubicle in the girl's toilet. She knew everything about the family lives of the janitors because they were nicer to talk to than people her own age. She remembers the kindness in their smiles as they coaxed her out.

One day, Tyler finds the words good-bye hastily scrawled on lined paper in his mailbox. He'll always be sad that it had to come to that and now, there's just a pressing question on his mind.

"Are you stronger now?"

Quinn closes her eyes at the softness in his voice.

"I think I was for a little while…"

"A little while?"

He asks curiously. Quinn wipes the moisture away from her eyes, shaking her head to herself. She always surprised by how much of her Rachel still owns.

"_She_ changed everything. "

Her words cause an encouraging grin to appear on his face and he bumps her shoulder playfully, gesturing for her to continue. Quinn really loves him because the gender description wasn't an issue. It never fazes the boy. He's alarmingly perfect.

"Tell me about her."

The story is long with entertaining heartfelt turns and pitfalls. Quinn relives every memory and emotion. Tyler laughs the blonde's disgruntled attitude towards the singer at the beginning and he cheers when the girls finally get together. He decides that he likes the characters Brittany, Santana and Kelsey because they keep everyone else strong. Tyler prays that he gets to meet Rachel Berry someday so that he can thank her for the spark in Quinn's eyes. He hopes to convince the singer that happiness comes more than once in life.

The girls will probably get another chance at this. _Love, was it? _

By the end, the sky had gotten darker and so had their spirits as the blonde recounts the dying moments of Rachel and her relationship. She describes the singer's brilliance and her own self-loathing. In her mind, Quinn takes all the responsibility for the break up and it's an unspeakable burden. Her voice is almost desperate as she asks.

"Am I a coward? Was I wrong? Are you disappointed in me?"

Tyler pauses in surprise. Quietly, he'll say his answer. The certainty in his voice is compelling.

"You're _not_ a coward."

Quinn hands tremble because she wants so hard to believe him. Tyler takes her hands in his. He holds tightly, forcing the weakness away. When he releases her, she's stable again. Control returns and she able to moderate her emotions. He waits patiently for it all, before continuing.

"You're not a coward Lucy, but some of the things you've done haven't been particularly brave either. I think to call someone a coward the qualities have to chronic, encompassing their _entire_ personalities. Instead what you had, were a couple of hard moments where maybe, you broke a little…"

Tyler believes that Quinn is one of the brightest people to exist. He refuses to lie to her. Using his fingers, he'll brush the tears from her cheeks. And looking into her eyes, Tyler swears to himself that he'll chase away the doubt and piece together the brokenness.

"_Hey,_ in the end that's _ok._ Nobody is expected to be right _all the time_. That isn't fair. And as to whether you were wrong… I honestly don't have a clue."

He knows that Quinn wants a black and white answer to sooth her thoughts and give her a direction. It doesn't even have to be something that she wants to hear. However, the boy thinks that the hardest part was that there wasn't a correct answer to the scenario. Decisions change depending on the nature and the person making them. Guilt will colour things negatively whereas happiness could do the opposite. The key was to focus on the steps afterwards where you can try again for a same or different conclusion.

Quinn _has_ choices and it isn't the trap it appears to be. He takes a deep breath, gathering his thoughts.

"All I can see is that this girl? Rachel? She _really_ loved you and you clearly felt the same. It's hard to comprehend why anyone would give that up…."

"I thought that it'd be better."

Quinn quiet voice comes out. Her hands are in her lap and her head is downcast. She looks meek.

"And, that's the problem isn't it? Lucy, you've always seen things in the long term. You always focus on how a sequence of events will bring about some grand conclusion. But life isn't amenable to prediction like that. And just because you see something that others don't or you know how the future is going to be, I'd like to think that some things are worthy enough to weather through anyway."

The blonde's eyes widen as the truthfulness of his statement runs through her. It's the closest to an admonishment that she's ever received from him. It's also a wake-up call. She had been headstrong, doing what was logically right but the results didn't make sense. Time was supposed to make the process easier. They were supposed to have found others to occupy their hearts. But Quinn hasn't and she most definitely isn't happy.

The pianist thinks that she can _finally_ accept that back then, she _should have_ joined Rachel. Her breath catches because this is the first time she's had enough courage to say it out loud.

"I don't know how to make things better for her."

Her soft confession causes the boy to sit up.

"Then _stop trying_. Honestly Lucy, just stop. Figure things out on your end first. Until then, you're in no state to be around her or history is just going to repeat itself."

There's a pause as the blonde thinks. Trees rustle nearby.

"Are you telling me to let her go?"

Tyler closes his eyes and shakes his head.

"No. Even if I did, I don't think you would."

The two share a smile at the words. Quinn is thankful to have him. At a stage of her life where all seems lost, meeting him again after so many years gives her a part of herself back. She finds some clarity and it makes her realize and accept that there _had_ better option back then. She just hadn't been strong or put together enough to take them. Tyler sees her shoulders drop. A pensive look overtakes her face. The boy clears his throat, trying one last time to make sense.

"Look, this doesn't make yours or Rachel's feelings any less valid. But, it sounds like you were two children given something beyond your years to take care of. Adults, far older than us _still don't know _what to do with love. So, this break could be a good thing. You guys have already started this relationship, so you know the emotion is right. Now, all you need to do is to be mature enough to handle it. You girls need to grow up enough so that the force of your emotions doesn't cause either of you to falter and run."

His words have an effect. With every sentence, the lines demarcating depression's hold on Quinn heart are pushed back a little further. She sits straighter and some colour begins to return to her face. Tyler thinks that his friend will survive this. He thinks that she will find the talented girl from her memories someday and that they'll figure their issues out because love will win out. It always does. Her experiences in Lima were right about one thing _love doesn't let us down. _

Quinn leans back to marvel at the stars.

"Are you going to help me Ty?"

The boy chuckles.

"Sure Lucy. I'll be around."

Quinn drags her eyes back to him. Her head is tilted slightly and they share a long look. In that brief silence, she apologizes for her mistakes … And, he forgives her for leaving.

"Thank you Tyler."

The boy simply brings her into a tight hug, whispering into her hair. He smells of mint toothpaste, old books and hair jell. It's not cookies, strawberries or cinnamon. It's not Rachel Berry. Of that, Quinn is so acutely aware. Eventually as they walk away from the bench, the odd passerby will hear them talk about the little things.

"Hey, do you want to see Santana again?"

The girl asks.

"Was she the girl that used to scare me?"

The boy replies, looking uncomfortably fearful. And they share a laugh because in the past when he came with the Fabray's to pick Quinn up from her piano lessons, there had been a young Latina that had threatened him with sarcasm and a fierce glare.

Santana was the girl who told him to shape up if he wanted to be Quinn's hero. She wasn't wrong.

Weeks pass. The old friends spend nearly every moment together. Santana joins in when she has the time. They all have a lot of anecdotes to tell. Tyler spends time getting to know _Quinn_, who she loved, how she got pregnant and whether she wanted more from life. Slowly, the boy learns to accept that the girl in front of him wasn't Lucy. But amazingly, that fact doesn't change anything. He _still_ wants to help her with her heavy books, talk to her in her breaks and call her at night.

Quinn, on the other hand, is healing. In the safety of his presence, the tears don't come as often. She finds that she can walk out of the prison that her memories construct. So one night when Santana goes past the blonde's bedroom and she hears _laughing_, the Latina almost cries. She's so grateful for the change because the crippling sadness in her best friend was really starting to worry. She believes that some happiness was long overdue. Quinn deserved it.

As cliché as it sounds, it is a sunny morning when Santana realizes that there might be something other than just friendship on the line. She walks into the living room and finds the two asleep on the fold out sofa bed. There are textbooks and flashcards scattered without a care. Even Tyler is without his contacts, wearing his retro-themed glasses. They're completely off guard and their true personalities shine through. Quinn is gracefully tucked in his arms. There are accidental pen marks between her fingers, evidence of their study. His head lies against her shoulder and it is just enough to hide his expression from the world. Santana is amused because even in their unconscious states they're protecting each other.

Somehow the peace isn't made to last. Tyler's phone suddenly blasts with the ringtone of the latest pop song. The Latina raises her eyebrow at the choice. She'll admit that it is entertaining to watch the two wake up in their position. The blush starts with their pale cheeks extending down their neck. The blonde hands the boy his phone and their fingers brush. Santana notices how it affects Tyler. He seems surprised and his eyes can't help but follow the pianist when she leaves to give him some space.

Quinn goes into the kitchen, foraging for breakfast. She studiously ignores how Santana smirks, rolling her eyes. Her mind prepares for the inevitable teasing later. The embarrassed part of her hides her head behind the refrigerator door, taking longer than necessary to peruse the contents. She hopes that the cool air will diffuse her reddened cheeks. In the end, the blonde decides on French toast, retrieving the supplies from the cupboard. As she cooks, she'll run over why her heart is beating so quickly.

It'll hit her that she might feel something for the boy and for a moment the blood will drain from her face. She'll be faced with the fact, that despite her reservations and firm expectations, someone else other than Rachel had found a path to her heart. The world is not so black and white. She can feel it, the beginning of another relationship.

The matter of having choices frightens her. Instinctively, she'll compare Rachel Berry to Tyler Kent. The competition feels unfair. There's no contest because on her _worst_ day, the singer is still all that the pianist can comprehend. When Quinn closes her eyes, her recorded memory of Rachel's voice is still enough to make her believe in anything. It can propel her to _do anything_. And…just like that, having choices doesn't seem scary anymore as she realizes that her vision of her future partner hasn't changed. The distance didn't matter. The time didn't matter.

From the couch, Tyler's gaze follows her: when she agitatedly beats the egg, when she stops in frustration and when she looks as if she's about to give up. He's captivated. Santana thinks that after all these years she recognizes that look when it's directed to her friend.

"So how long have you been in love with her?"

Her voice is quiet as she sits down, watching his expression knowingly. He pauses, before directing his entire focus to her.

"Straight to the point. You really haven't changed."

The comment causes Santana to grin. She _does remember him._ She remembers being extra mean to the boy that would dare to talk to her best friend without her say so. The younger version of herself had been insecure, worried that the boy would steal the blonde away from her. Santana had very few that she trusted, even back then. Tyler chuckles, he imagines that she is reliving the memory too. Still, he decides to answer the question.

"It hasn't been as long as you think, actually. Back in Bellevue, Lucy or Quinn as she is to you, was always just my best friend that I would do anything for. I didn't even consider it."

As the words leave his mouth, the boy cringes. He realizes how it sounds, but the blonde's appearance back then had nothing to do with it. He thinks that he needs to explain the past for the Latina to understand.

"Did she ever tell you how we met?"

Santana looks up for a second to keep track of where Quinn was before shaking her head.

"No. Quinn doesn't talk much about Bellevue, I was always curious though. The homecoming king and the overweight book nerd, it's an unlikely combination."

She's met with a bitter laugh. Tyler imagines that that was what everybody wondered back then.

"I might be prince charming now, but trust me, that was all Quinn and she has no idea."

Santana gets comfortable, waiting for him to continue. She recalls a little about his history. Tyler's family was rooted in business and stock trading, a well off bunch. The boy with his chiseled features and etiquette seems to fit in.

"Look, my parents have always had grand designs for my future. When you have so much on the line, I guess you're harsher than you should be on your kid. My father had had enough of my toys and stuff lying about that day and chewed me out royally. His hand came so fast _I didn't see it coming_."

With glassy eyes, the boy isn't quite there as he rubs his jaw absentmindedly. Santana imagines that it is where the bruise used to be and she sighs. Sometimes, people didn't get the parents that they deserved but she's constantly amazed by how _far the apple can fall from the tree._ Not for the first time, she questions how Quinn and Tyler turned out to be so well adjusted. After all, with their role models they could be worse.

"I spent the night at a friend's house, furious and thinking up plans to get back at him."

Tyler pauses thoughtfully.

"I was all ready the next day too. I had brought the eggs to throw, and had childish speech in my mind. But as I stormed towards my parents, Quinn stopped me."

He shakes his head. The boy realizes that thoughts of the blonde kept his head above the water. Where most see his looks, achievements and wealth, Quinn has always only ever seen _him_: the Tyler that has an irrational fear of cats and clowns. She knows that he can be lazy and crass. With her, he's not afraid of letting anyone down. He can sit and watch sponge-bob all day and go for more than a week unshaven. She won't ever call him a child or a Neanderthal.

The effect won't last forever but the boy is willing to take the gift while it's right here in front of him. He knows that Quinn doesn't feel that way towards him and that soon he will have to go back to Bellevue and help with the family business. To him, the scariest part of it all was whether they'd be lucky enough to be in the same place at the same time again. The probability is low but he tries not to think about it. Tyler decides that there are a million things in the world to worry about but the only one that he cares about is finishing this story. At the very least, Santana will understand a little more about her best friend.

"Quinn and I had never talked much before that day, but somehow she still seemed to understand my intentions. In her bright hair tie and flowery sundress she looked at me as if she was a million times older, _maybe wiser_... I don't know."

He sighs, turning his head. Quinn was still in the same position in the kitchen, looking for a good spatula. She's still a picture of grace without makeup and tendrils of blonde falling against her cheek. His voice is wistful as he lets his senses be taken over by the blonde.

"Maybe she knew before I did that my dad was just stressed. But in the end, she told me that I could be mean if I wanted to... Nobody was going to stop me. But I should remember, that forgiveness doesn't always come just because I ask for it. "

They pause in thought. Santana had always known that Quinn struggled with the task of being mean. She seemed to hate the hierarchy as much as she wanted to belong to it, a constant internal conflict. From the hard eyes, biting words and tough posture, there seemed to be too much effort in it all. The blonde had managed to hide it with everyone _except_ Rachel Berry. The Latina would like to think that it meant _something_. Maybe her friend had been afraid that the singer wouldn't be able to let go of her trespasses. After all, there had been moments, when the other cheerleaders and footballers weren't around, that Quinn liked to sit in the changing rooms with her worn out exercise book. The Latina remembers walking in once and seeing a pencil on the floor. Its owner was seemingly lost in a daydream. But upon closer inspection, you could hear the voice of a certain singer muffled by the walls, another song by Barbara Streisand… probably.

Santana isn't naïve enough to believe that the girls had loved each other from the beginning because Quinn honestly did think that Rachel Berry was a pompous little brat and Rachel held a certain level of disappointment in those that made others feels inferior. But it just so seems that in the brief interludes where perhaps they were both who they _wanted_ to be, that they felt a gravitational pull towards each other. The pianist let her guard down enough to admire the brunette's musical talent and the singer felt confident enough to challenge the blonde's foundations.

Tyler voice draws her focus back.

"Afterwards, I guess I just wanted to be her friend. In town full of spoilt children, businessmen and their alcoholic wives, she was the only honest one. "

The comment throws the Latina off. It hits her how highly he holds Quinn and she suddenly needs to make some facts _clear_.

"Are you sure that you're not just in love with who you remember? Because she's not that girl anymore."

Perhaps she says the last statement a little too harshly because Tyler seems to shrink into himself. The many mindless people who vie for the blonde's affections irritate the Latina. It has nothing to do with jealousy because most of the time they're looking for a dream, a mirage; _a perfection conceived in their _minds based on well-crafted looks. But Quinn has _so many flaws_. The fact that she hides it so well manages to work against her every time. Brittany and Santana worry, because they can see it. They notice that it gets harder and harder for their friend to pick herself up each time she falls from people's expectations.

Tyler falters. He rubs his face in a flustered manner before looking up.

"You're the best friend. Am I _ever_ going to say anything that will be good enough?"

The question causes the Latina to pause. She really doesn't know. She'd like to think that when she sees somebody worthy, she'll somehow know and say to herself: _him or her, they'll be the ones to fix what's been broken_. They'll make her friend function in the world of the living again. Still, Santana can concede that she's been wrong at least _one_ other time before, Rachel Berry. The singer was a stubborn force that broke Quinn's harmful façade away only to create somebody closer to the truth: somebody not quite Lucy and not quite the HBIC. The Latina remembers this, so she gives the boy a chance. 

"Just tell me something different, something _real_. Make me believe that this isn't a game and that you _won't_ hurt her."

The boy nods. For the first time, he sees how much Santana has grown up as well. She's no longer the girl that hides behind her anger, sarcasm and biting words. She knows how to care for her friends without lashing out and he can feel the weight of the challenge. He considers giving a manufactured answer, well-structured in its eloquence and diplomatic language. But, when he catches her gaze, he realizes that he respects her too much to go along with it, _so he tries for honesty_.

"I loved Quinn. She was the best friend any 5 years old could have: cute, pretty and funny. But, when high school hit, it was _hard_. I hated it and it still makes me angry."

His fists clench as blue eyes start to water. The memories come with the force of a steel freight train and he finds that emotional wounds from adolescence are still just as raw in the present. Maybe he's just too sensitive. It's either that, or he feels too strongly for Quinn to let it go. The latter seems more likely. Still, he looks to the Latina with a plea for her understanding.

"Just because her growth spurt didn't kick in as early, or her face hadn't cleared up as much as the other kids, people thought that they had the license to mock her."

The words are said with such disdain for childhood bullies and Santana feels herself joining the imagined campaign against them. Was it hypocritical? Probably. However when friends were involved it is harder to stay impartial. A younger Quinn would more times than not, come to their joint piano classes in tears, refusing to disclose the reason why. She would quickly wipe away her tears and put on a brave, controlled mask, trying to convince the Latina that nothing was wrong. Santana had let things go back then because she had so much trouble with Brittany and she didn't want to lose her only other trustworthy friend.

But now, the Latina recalls most clearly that her best friend, the slightly chubby braces-wearing girl would rather spend her time in an old music room with an even older instructor _just to avoid school_. So, _yes_ Santana is annoyed as well. She and Tyler are the same in this respect.

"Quinn was somebody that was just so much better than they could hope to be. And I wished that I could've been with her every minute, but we had different classes and _different commitments_."

Tyler takes a break. Under his own personal pain and Santana hard gaze, he comes to a realization.

"I couldn't protect her all the time. And… I guess the times that I could help, just wasn't enough because by the end of it she hated herself and Bellevue enough to leave."

There's a silence as they ponder the implications. The boy wonders: _what if Lucy had stayed in Bellevue?_ Whereas the Latina shakes her head, refusing to think too long on the matter. Santana was sure that if Quinn hadn't come to McKinley, she, herself, would be somebody out of control: Snix without a leash. The Latina is so _certain _that without the care-fully drawn lines of her friend, she would have manipulated and pushed at her relationship with Brittany until it didn't exist anymore. The holy trinity was maintained by one simple fact. They didn't work without each other.

Almost out of the blue, Tyler speaks.

"She never fought back, you know. She let the idiots call her Lucy Caboosey, because she started to believe them in the end."

He shakes his head tiredly. His feelings have reached the peak on the matter and now everything simply feels calm. So in reflection, he murmurs to himself.

"I was surprised to hear that Lucy became Quinn Fabray, head cheerleader and bitch at McKinley. Trust me Santana, I know that the girl cooking French toast now isn't the girl I knew."

The Latina nods. She thinks that Tyler could be something the blonde needs because he is one of the few who can hold her gaze. He's not trying to hide his emotions. He takes that same confident streak he has with everything else in life and applies it to love.

He's so much like Rachel Berry but in even more ways, he really isn't. He's a hero, the sort from romantic comedies: sporty, intelligent and humble despite his handsome looks. Unlike the singer, there's no insecurity in his actions and he's _mature_. Not the sort that places you first in class but the type that gives you an honorary seat on the adult's table.

However, in the end, the biggest difference is that he knows what he wants, how far he's willing to go and the consequences of his actions. He knows that he _can_ survive without _Quinn Fabray_ but perhaps _he doesn't want to. _And, Santana has to question, that maybe that's the way they should go about it. There'd be far less pressure on their shoulders.

Tyler smiles gently, looking over his shoulder to Quinn. By now, she has found the utensils and the smell of eggs permeate the apartment. While she goes about her daily activities, he battles for her.

"I think that Lima gave Lucy or Quinn the freedom to become who she needed to be, to cope and deal with the reality people don't always follow the rules. She needed to get to a point where she could love herself again. So…I guess she took a walk on the other side. Somehow, I bet that she made a _huge_ difference."

It's an accurate assessment and Santana nods quietly. She amazed by his insight. And due to his truthfulness and conviction, she considers giving him her support. Tyler can see her acceptance, but he shakes his head softly. He tries to grin despite her confusion. He tries desperately hard to be _brave_.

"Santana, I _know_ who she is now. She's a broken-hearted girl, trying to keep it all together. It's going to take a while, but she'll figure it out. She'll realize that UCLA isn't where she wants to be anymore and that, _that's ok_. She doesn't have to stay here, just to pay some kind of emotional punishment to herself."

The Latina softens and closes her eyes. In that moment, her heart aches for him.

"Maybe just maybe… medicine doesn't work without Rachel Berry."

Tyler respectfully withdraws his candidacy for a place in the blonde's heart. He's thankful that she never gave him any illusions. He imagines that it would hurt worse that way. But, in the brief quiet, it feels like the only thing that matters as his mind traitorously conjures up the '_what ifs.' _

Santana watches from the side. He's the one she wants to believe in, because right now, Rachel isn't _around_. The singer is struggling with her own issues. The Latina lives in both their lives and she learns a few things: why they failed and if they were ready to see each other again. For the record…it's not yet but…_eventually_.

"You should tell her."

"What? About Rachel? No, Quinn needs to – "

"No! I mean about how you feel about her."

Santana interrupts. A look becomes a staring contest and Tyler sighs. He runs his fingers through his short hair. The haphazard and silly directional styling betrays the seriousness of his words.

"She's not going to say yes, you know. She's not going to pick me because there's a brunette in New York that holds her whole heart. And, in the end Quinn's still too honest to put me through that."

Tyler pauses for a moment before leaning forward to whisper conspiratorially. His comment is soft and almost wistful.

"I'm rooting for them you know."

Santana watches him turn his gaze to the blonde once again. When he does, the worry lines smooth out and his lips are fighting a losing war against a smile. Santana rubs her temples and mutters under her breath.

"You're really just a good guy aren't you?"

The boy doesn't hear it. She expects that if he had, he's still too humble to turn around and respond. It's the combination of these little traits, these rarities that cause the Latina to hope. She doesn't want Quinn to be alone. The blonde could be very self-destructive that way. Tyler was her second chance, a second prince charming to her story. So, on the off chance that the singer slips from Quinn's mind, _even for just a second_, Santana walks up to Tyler and taps him on the shoulder.

"Tell her anyways. Don't make the same mistake she did. You can see how it plays out right? Take your own advice be there when it does. It's worth it."

And, maybe something unexpected happens.

It takes a few days for the boy to summon the courage and it doesn't come out during an elaborate dinner or in an accidental blurt. Instead, Santana goes to their favourite little café where somehow they've become a regular trio, and sees the two there. Tyler buys the drinks and helps Quinn with her chair. The blonde's smile is more carefree than it's been in a long time. So he takes her hands in his and speaks cautiously. It isn't a long confession. The right words come easily to those who practice.

From her position across the street, the Latina can understand the scene. Quinn's expressions start with worry with the loss of the boy's joking grin. But as he speaks, her eyes soften. A thin layer of moisture accumulates and a tear slides down her face. His hand shakes as he tries to wipe it away. It's a beautiful moment between two friends. Quinn closes her eyes. She's so grateful that Tyler thinks her important enough to love, despite her damage. And _because_ he is so important to her, she tries to imagine a world where she says yes. However when she does, her heart breaks a little because she can't hear Rachel's voice in her mind anymore. Her body tenses in apprehension.

As a reflex, Quinn looks down at the table, where her keys and wallet are. Her eyes land on the white worn corner sticking out of one of the compartments. She's read the note so many times: _Rachel Berry's Forever._ The words still haven't changed in their meaning or effect, not even after the years. It _still_ brings a sense of calm, warmth and a need to see the singer one day, to fix this. So as Quinn reads the offers of love, security and a future in Tyler's eyes, she realizes that she wants to promise those parts of herself to the Rachel.

Their storybook ending had been decided in high school… ever since an outcast took a chance on a cheerleader and the cheerleader _didn't or couldn't _walk away. Together, they built a relationship from sticks and stones. And, _that_… still means everything.

In the end, Tyler understands. He kisses his friend softly on the forehead and nods. They're able to pick up their previous conversation. It takes weeks but eventually the sad tinge disappears from the boy's gaze when he looks at the blonde.

/

The third year of college is different. Rachel and Quinn have managed to separate their worlds. The blonde stops scanning the New York Times for information about upcoming student productions and the brunette stops asking about the pianist.

It has nothing to do with apathy.

Santana _knows_ this, because Rachel still has that Polaroid with the blonde's scrawl tacked onto her vanity mirror. It is placed next to the greats like an autographed Barbara Streisand playbill and pictures of her fathers. Some distance away, Quinn does something similar. The pianist protects a certain scrap of paper above all else, and when the days are too lonely she closes her eyes and hopes that the singer's words are still true.

Rachel and Quinn are just trying to find the least painful method of surviving. The fifth sign occurs when this system fails.

Monday morning, Quinn rushes to class, taking the random fliers shoved in her direction. When she finds that she's the first to an empty lecture hall, she gives the papers a second glance. The first one talks of gym membership. The second advertises barista job vacancies, but the third, causes her breath to catch. She feels lightheaded and she doesn't know whether it's good or bad.

_Due to the alliance between Julliard and UCLA's drama departments, students are cordially invited to watch a play produced, written and performed by students of Julliard for their graduating project in the Westland Auditorium. New York Times critics claim, "a well-rounded amateur production, though not without its flaws, the impeccable costumes and performances are enough to carry it through…" _

Her eyes scan the page for additional text, something to confirm the only thought in her mind, _Rachel Berry_. Unfortunately, the information isn't on the sheet but the blonde knows who has it.

In the Law library, Santana is tired and impatient. Her latest group assignment has eroded the last of her good will. She's about to call it a day when a shadow falls over her desk. Her annoyed tone slips out easily.

"Look Collins, if you gots to get in my face again it better not be about how I choose to speak. Do yourself a favor and get over it."

She expects some kind of nasally and whiny response. However, a light chuckle it causes her head to look up. Quinn is rolling her eyes in amusement and Santana grins in response.

"What are you doing in my neck of the woods Q? Don't you have class?"

The question stops the blonde and all too quickly the seriousness returns. Quinn takes the flier from her bag, placing it on the table and sliding it to her friend. She quietly watches the recognition flash across Santana's face. And somehow, she gets her answer. They've always been able to read each other well.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

The Latina reads the words on the sheet a third time before meeting her friend's hazel eyes head on.

"I didn't think that you'd want to know…"

The comment causes the pianist to move uncomfortably. Santana _notices_. The Latina has many theories on the two girls, Quinn especially. She figures that given the chance, the blonde isn't strong enough to pass up an opportunity to see the singer again. However, this is one of the few times that she thinks that maybe her friend _should._ It's taken a while but the blonde is finally _learning_, she's coming to terms with the unexpected turns in her life without the pressures of being someone else's crutch. In the past few months, Quinn hasn't had to be the responsible daughter to a recovering alcoholic, the unspoken voice of reason to a disorganized glee club _or_ the loving dutiful girlfriend. Her growth has been entirely her own, _unhurried_. Santana thinks that _that_ is important, at least for now.

Over their college years, a deeper trust develops between the two alpha girls. Hesitantly, Quinn will ask.

"Is it just Brittany or is…Is Rachel coming as well?"

Santana feels a pang of sympathy for her friend. She imagines that it is terrifying; the idea of facing up to your biggest mistake. After all these years, it is hard to know where things stand and whether either girl has any right to bring up the past. For all they know the other _could be happy with their space or with someone else_. And even if that were not true, there would be the inevitable question, why didn't they meet again sooner? There's no right answer, except that life _continues_ _without us_. And it's hard to justify holding onto an old high school relationship…

_What an unreasonable organ the human heart would be, if we did. _

Quinn's mind is a loud mess and it shows in her changing expressions. Her heart might be the _most unreasonable _because it won't give up on the idea of Rachel Berry. Santana sighs

"Q, they're both scheduled to come. That's all I know. Britts is keeping the whole thing on the down low, but they won't be staying with us. Julliard is setting them up in one of the dorms."

It's the last they talk about it until the date actually arrives. Quinn paces up and down the living room of their small apartment. She's sure that it is annoying Santana, but the nerves needs to get out. Her mouth is dry and it takes a moment for her to realize that she doesn't actually know what to say.

Somehow, her college years had unraveled her and it is almost as if she doesn't feel whole enough to be Rachel's partner. It wouldn't be fair. The singer deserves somebody that will be stable in _all_ things, not just in their love. This is important, because they've learnt the hard way that the world won't run on good faith alone.

The blonde lets her shoulder drop as her mind finally explores the possibilities that she's tried to shut out. Rachel could have found someone else, someone smarter, more in tune with their wants and identity. Quinn hopes that, if so, this person could surpass her and _never_ make the singer cry.

Three knocks interrupt her thoughts and when she opens the door she's nearly taken of her feet. An exuberant Brittany hugs Quinn and twirls her around, albeit a bit awkwardly.

"Quinn, it's so good to see you. San says that you're better these days. I can't wait for us all to hang out again!"

The dancer's cheer and happiness is infectious. Quinn finds herself chuckling and nodding enthusiastically. She realizes how much things change and how much they really actually stay the same. Brittany now has an alertness about her that never seemed to be present before. She carries herself with more maturity, using strides instead of skips and articulate sentences instead of a mess of wild gestures. _But in the end_, her personality hasn't changed. She still thinks that Lord Tubbington has been stealing her t-shirts for the black market and that Artie's comb is enchanted with luck. It's reassuring and Quinn steps aside for the Latina to greet her girlfriend. Over Santana's shoulder, Brittany tilts her head confusedly staring at the empty space in the room.

"Wait, what happened to the piano?"

Her wide eyes are met with silence. Santana tenses and Quinn feels that familiar frustration. For some reason, after the glee club and after Rachel, she feels the lack of music more acutely. She hasn't gotten over her mind block to playing. Sometimes, she wakes up with her fingers moving to some unknown song but when seated in front of an actual instrument, everything fails her. Tears come to her eyes because she's reminded of just how far the singer had gotten into her life, when her instrument for escape is tied to the singer.

"Q, just…doesn't have the time to play anymore Britts. Don't worry ok?"

Brittany looks at them in a way that tells them that she knows that they are lying. Despite this, she doesn't push. A look of understanding crosses her face and she smiles encouragingly. This is one of the moments where the Quinn appreciates the true loyalty of her friends. They were still the unholy trinity, the same mismatched girls. Looking up and past the dancer, Santana asks confusedly.

"Hang on. Where's Berry?"

Quinn freezes momentarily. Finally, she summons the courage to look and there's nobody else at the door. It's funny because after leaving Lima, she's lost her special power. She can't hide her emotions as well as she used to. So, her smile fades and the hope drains from her face. The excitement feels like lead in her stomach. And Brittany falters.

"Please don't be disappointed Quinn. It's not your fault. Rach, she wanted to come but…"

She tries to think, to find the proper words because this wasn't supposed to be the end. And when fragile emotions are on the line, anything less than 'yes' feels like complete devastation. Brittany takes Quinn's hand and squeezes. She makes the important things clear.

"Please just listen. Rach had her bags packed. She's been weird all week, trying to think of everything she wanted to say to you and how she was going to drag you back to New York with her. It's been 2 years and the thought of seeing you still sends her into a disorganized Rachel mess."

Quinn looks up in disbelief and Santana shakes her head knowingly. Brittany tries to communicate the truthfulness of her statement. The dancer remembers helping with the luggage, setting up checklists and arguing in vain when the actual decision was made. How do you tell love to wait? Most people don't and if there is a problem in the foundations, they'll deal with the repercussions later. Rachel and Quinn, in their senior year, discovered a weakness, a crack in the walls, and these days they just work so hard understand why. In the meantime, Brittany continues.

"But that's the problem, isn't it? Just the thought of being in the same room, makes you _both_ all weird and scared. And it's like high school again, because everything still hurts. I guess Rach just realized that she's not ready to see you yet."

Tears roll slowly down the pianist cheeks as she tries to focus on her fingers. They're blurring by the second. She feels cold. She doesn't know what to say or how to feel because Rachel was being _logical_. Despite the distance, they're balanced because when the singer _finally_ thinks things through, Quinn mind is irrational, childlike and prone to wild romantic gestures. It occurs to her that it is probably just fear, but the butterflies in her stomach tell her not to care. It worries her that she and Rachel are never in the same place anymore. She wonders if they can ever be again.

Brittany feels a slight pressure behind her eyes as she watches her friend's pain. She really hasn't seen Quinn in such a long time and she is honestly surprised by the changes. The blonde seems more open, she doesn't berate herself for showing emotion anymore. And whilst that is what Brittany had always wanted for her, the dancer had hoped to see smiles instead of heartbreak. She notices the protectiveness and hopelessness in Santana's gaze. Brittany kneels down to catch Quinn's gaze.

"This isn't never Quinn. But Rachel wants for the next time you see each other for you both to be _sure_. No more giving up. No more running. She wants lady kisses on the sidewalk, nice dates after her plays and maybe even kids someday because she doesn't want to be in this emotional limbo anymore."

The dancer bites her lip, pausing in thought. She does so as if she's concerned about divulging a secret. The ends must outweigh the means, because she whispers…

"If you decide to chase her, wear your knightly armor Quinn, because it isn't going to be easy. If you show her that the feelings are still there, she'll promise to be relentless in the pursuit of your heart."

The bold statement causes Quinn to sit up. The language and vocabulary was _so_ familiar. The pianist thinks that if she shuts her eyes she can hear Rachel really making that promise and her heart skips multiple beats. She suddenly finds it hard to breathe because the realization hits her. It wasn't just Rachel. Thinking about it, Quinn doesn't feel _ready_ either. These days she can barely function without guilt and sadness weighing on her actions. Her countenance is composed of a constant tug of war between every facet of her personality. She feels fractured, like a combination of different people. _Lucy_ wants to love the singer and make things right. _HBIC Quinn Fabray_ wants to turn her emotions off and focus on her studies. And _Rachel's Quinn_ is still broken, no longer understanding what really was the best for either of them. This side rejects all the other suitors in the meantime.

So, the admission that, right now, none of these versions of herself could be what the singer needed, feels wrong. It feels like _failure_ and Quinn just needs to get away. She carefully shrugs Brittany away and backs herself to the door. Distraught, the pianist looks to her friends and whispers.

"I'm sorry. I just… Don't wait up."

The pianist just starts running, not really reading any signs or directions. If she reaches a corner she turns left. If she reaches a T-junction she turns right and if she really can't see at all, she heads straight. She tries to escape the loudness of her memories and feelings. The burn in her muscles reassures her of her progress and warns her of her limits. When she is finally out of breath, she is standing outside of the school's drama building. Frustrated tears return to her eyes as her fingers move by her sides. For a brief moment, inspiration returns to her and she finds herself in the old music room behind the auditorium.

There are blankets covering the instruments. Most of the area had become abandoned for renovation but its stationary nature brings a sense of peace. The blonde stacks a couple of crates to make a stool, slowly moving the plastic covering to the side to reveal black and white keys. When Quinn looks at her hands and she thinks that she can almost see the energy running inside them. Her mind runs away with possibilities and visions of the future. And in a desperate moment of self-deception, she pretends as if Rachel was sitting next to her, warm and encouraging. Her fingers play a string of notes, conveying regrets, apologies and wishes of happiness that had been trapped in the recesses of her mind.

Her singing voice takes a while to return after such a break, becoming throaty and weak from the lack of practice. Somehow, it makes her sound even more lost than before. She wonders if Rachel would recognize her now.

You could be happy and I won't know

But you weren't happy the day I watched you go

The light tones continue, as she waits for the words to come. Her hazel eyes are glassy and she is off in another place. It's nicer and easier because the singer is there with her and _she looks forgiving_. Quinn almost chokes, because from the shadows surrounding that unique nose and the twinkle in those chocolate brown eyes, the scene is _so_ vivid. The blonde fights with her consciousness to stay. But reality makes a call, and the next lines come to mind.

And all the things that I wished I had not said

Are played in loops 'till it's madness in my head'

The guilt is crushing. Her world seems to shift and in the midst of these changes, imaginary Rachel's smile appears to be saddened as she moves next to Quinn. Colours become duller and somehow they're both revisiting the past. They relive moments in the ice-cream parlour, their first date and unexpected confessions. It frightens the blonde to recall just how lucky they were that love decided to take a chance on them.

Is it too late to remind you how we were

But not our last days of silence, screaming, blur

Memory is a fickle thing. It doesn't listen to you and it calls up any experience it wants without respect to your desires. Behind her eyes, Quinn sees the mistakes that led them there. Kept secrets on both sides that gathered into something bigger and uncontrollable. She recalls their last night: the anger, the self-blame and the end of optimism _for both of them_…

_Everything is in New York for you… You have no reason to stay…Why are you doing this, Quinn? I can't keep doing this…_

After that, the experience must have been bad or too painful because Quinn has blocked it out. Nothing else seemed to stand out since then. College classes were monotonous, every student drowning in their own little world. None make it past her walls and it only serves to highlight how hard the singer tried. Against Rachel's barrage of courage and kindness, Quinn takes solace in the fact that her defenses never really stood a chance. She takes a breath.

Most of what I remember makes me sure

I should have stopped you from walking out the door

Her voice goes slightly higher on the last words of the line and she can't stop the pleading tone that seeps in. With the amount of sincerity exuded, it is hard to believe that she is really alone in the room. There is a pause and a stop to the music. Quinn rubs the tension from her face and for this one time, she teaches herself how to do this without the brunette. It is harder than she ever imagined.

You could be happy, I hope you are

You made me happier than I'd been by far

A small genuine smile makes its way onto her face. It has been so long that the muscle movement feels almost foreign. The blonde wants a great many things in life but Rachel's happiness has always been on the top of the list. To say that it doesn't matter _how_ would be a lie, but if Quinn can't be there like she should, she'll step aside for whoever is brave enough to forge those new memories with the singer. _Quinn hopes that it never comes to that. _She hopes to be the one that stays, when critics get mean and the disappointment is cast.

Somehow everything I own smells of you

The blonde is entirely sure that her brain is making up signals but she still registers the Rachel's presence around everything of importance. In her room in Lima, nothing has changed since she left and she finds that during those brief visits home, it is extraordinarily easy to fall asleep. She hugs her blankets and pillows and swears that there's a lingering scent: strawberries, cinnamon and cookies. There's a 3-4 second interval, where she can trick herself. For all her higher order thinking, her heartbreak is enough to create an illusion.

And for the tiniest moment it's all not true

However, in the end, there is one aspect that grounds her. In all her daydreams, Rachel has never given up Julliard. She's happy, where she's always envisaged being and it reminds Quinn that she's done _one thing right_. That idea saves her from darker places.

Do the things that you always wanted to

Without me there to hold you back, don't think, just do

So while Quinn understands that the singer will probably never hear any of this, she continues to sing as if Rachel there. By the end, her voice is stronger and the pitchy quality disappears from her tone. She's closer to who she used to be. She makes two requests and prays for the world to help. _Give Rachel her Broadway dream…Give Quinn the courage exact their best-laid plans._

More than anything I want to see you, girl

Take a glorious bite out of the whole world

The music seems to taper off and the pianist is still as she stares at the wall. Outside, Brittany shares a look with Santana. She turns off the recording function of her phone. Without a word, Santana hugs her girlfriend close and refuses to let go for a few minutes. Relief rolls off the Latina. It speaks volumes and Brittany starts to understand the battle on the other front. She can see that her view might be a bit myopic because of her time spent with the singer. The girls are struggling and events are reaching a peak. Nobody can stay alone forever. Giving in or moving on was inevitable.

But right now? Both Rachel and Quinn _are_ still fighting. The dancer believes that that's all that matters.

/

The sixth sign removes all the curtains and masks. It's the quiet fall of a High School hero, leader and friend. Santana receives a call in the middle of class, telling her to pick up one Quinn Fabray from the nurse's office. For a moment the Latina forgets to breathe, and dread fills her entire being. Her phone drops to floor and she doesn't _give a damn_. She's running to the medical center three buildings down, ignoring the concerned questions from her classmates and the irritated order of her professor.

Brittany's visit had cracked the fragile peace that was holding the pianist together. Quinn begins to see a little bit of Rachel return to every part of her life. She thinks about how that brunette at their local coffee shop had the same nervous tendency of faint blushes and the tucking her hair behind her ear. And as the pianist studies her books and all she can remember is how Rachel would scrunch her adorably face at the mention of math or chemistry. So the blonde takes to caffeine and keeping busy. She runs the athletic track at night. From years of cheerios, Quinn is fitter than most but by the time Santana finds her, she's bracing herself against the rails and taking painful breaths of fresh air. The Latina swears vehemently and questions how much longer this can continue.

Quinn fears sleep because the world behind her eyelids is full of regrets and so far removed from reality. She sees what she needs, but for the first time in her life she _does not know_ if she can get there on the strength of her will, alone.

Santana brings her friend back to their apartment. The school physician said that all Quinn needed was fluids and rest. He tells her not to worry, that medicine is a hard course and the pianist isn't the first student to experience burn out under the pressure. The Latina only shakes her head, wondering how the universe could be blind to such heartbreak. Softly, she'll lower her unconscious friend onto her bed. She'll dutifully slip Quinn's shoes off, placing them behind the door. And she'll fight the tears of frustration as she tucks the bedcovers around the pianist's fatigued body.

Rays of sunlight slip through the blinds, signaling the next morning. Quinn wakes up disorientated and with a persistent headache. Her body won't respond to her orders as it stumbles and falls with sluggish intentions. Beside her bedside table, there's a glass of water, painkillers and a short note.

"_Take the bloody tablets, Q. You can't keep doing this."_

The tone is angry, afraid and worried all at once. The blonde closes her eyes and the repercussions of her actions come to mind like a constant wave. Somehow, she's managed to make Santana reveal all her cards, showing her desperation and concern. That's a line Quinn used to think she'd never cross. Her head falls to her hands.

Santana sits in the living room with her back against the wall. She is reading about property law as a distraction. Usually, the blonde is awake before she is. After about 10 minutes, she hears a door open, quiet shuffling and the sounds of somebody moving closer to her. Quinn lets herself slide to the floor next to her friend. She's saddened by how the Latina's hands clench around hard book covers.

"This isn't working, is it?"

There's a pause. Santana brushes her hand through her hair in agitation. She closes the book and places it on the floor. Turning around and seeing the resignation in her friend, the truth slips out.

"No Q. It isn't."

It's amazing, just the verbalization of that conclusion lifts the weight of both their shoulders. Their gazes are locked. Santana lets out a kind and tired smile, and Quinn nods. It is forgiveness and acceptance. The pianist absentmindedly plays with the threads of the carpet.

"I don't even remember how we got here. When did things end up being so wrong?"

Normally, they'd call it a rhetorical question and move on. But from the events of the week and the toll it has taken, the girls have a silent agreement to be honest. They're just going to talk. No more avoidance. So Santana gives the answer that they both know.

"The moment that you let Berry go."

Santana bumps her friend's shoulder in an attempt to take the sting out of her statement. Quinn actually chuckles. They've reached the peak of something and all that is left is to fall. The blonde doesn't want to be so tragic anymore. She'll never forget Rachel but she needs to stop holding on, at least for now. Santana's hands slip into hers, squeezing with confidence.

"We'll figure this out, you and me Q."

Quinn smiles. She looks down at their hands, before quietly whispering to herself.

"No we're not."

"What?"

Quinn takes a folder out from behind her back. Santana is confused and surprised at the gesture. She waits for an explanation. The pianist fights the emotion in her tone. She'll never be able show Santana how grateful she is for her presence. The Latina's voice had always been strong and loud breaking through the murmurs of the background. The blonde thinks that this is a start.

"I put in a transfer for you, a month ago. It got approved today actually. Just received the email. After this term, you're going to NYU to finish out your degree."

Santana's brows crinkle as she opens her mouth to reiterate her reasons for staying. She's interrupted by a quiet and powerful comment.

"I love you Santana but we're both idiots."

The girls don't use bold and affectionate words to display their friendship. They're just not built that way. That was Brittany's domain. So when one of them does, it stops everything and forces the other to _listen_. Quinn looks up to the ceiling.

"…I'm sorry for keeping you here but I guess a part of me did need somebody. "

There's guilt and shame in her voice. Santana will always be the only one to understand that. Quinn shakes herself out of the daze and stares imploringly into her friend's eyes.

"But, you and Brittany? It _shouldn't_ be just a combination of long drives and weekends. You should be watching her dance rehearsals and she should be distracting you from your studies. "

The Latina softens. It reminds Santana that Quinn's intrinsic qualities have not changed despite being in transition. Quinn doesn't lash out in her grief. She doesn't become cruel just because she can. Above all, she's still a friend first. And because of those qualities, Santana thinks that the blonde will survive.

"Thanks for staying with me, even if it was just for a while."

A thoughtful silence descends. Santana sifts through the thoughts in her head. She won't deny it, she always misses Brittany, but long distance was working for them. And, she's not sure if she can leave Quinn. Their friendship is different, fiercely protective and symbiotic. Not even Brittany fully understands, but the thing that makes her special is that she doesn't mind. She loves the Latina and she loves Quinn. So to her, it shouldn't matter if the Quinn and Santana love each other as well, however they'd like.

In life, everyone dreams of two people. The first is a wife or husband, somebody to share everything with. You'll be bound to this person by a deep love and future. The second is the person that you don't see coming. This person is a friend, an enemy and a teacher, whatever happens to be required at the time. They'll know everything about you, especially the parts that you're still ashamed about because they share those flaws too. Quinn is that second person. The blonde is the precocious child Santana met when she didn't have anyone else to talk to. Going to New York feels like desertion.

However, with the resolution in the pianist's voice, the Latina ponders if it might be for the better. Maybe Quinn needs this. She has no idea, but in the end, she acquiesces. Santana decides that it doesn't matter because they'll keep in touch. A train ride, a plane ticket or a very long road trip; during trouble they'll come together without hesitation.

"Promise that you'll call every day."

Quinn's breathes a sigh of relief. She had been sure that she would need to fight more. Smirking in response, the pianist recognizes the amusement in Santana's expression.

"Two times a week."

"Five times a week."

"Three times a week and I don't tell Brittany that you tried to get Lord Tubbington on a crash diet."

An eye roll later and deal is sealed.

On the final night of the term, Quinn heads to the Law building to grab Santana. They studiously ignore the fact that, come next month, they'll be in different states. Together, the girls buy groceries and carpool home. They try to run past the sprinkler system to reach the door. Somehow, their timing is wrong and they both end up splashed. The blonde is frozen against the cold whilst the Latina has a distasteful look on her face. Their heads slowly turn to face each other and after a minute, the water hits them again.

Pause.

This time, full-bellied laughter escapes, as juvenile glee appear in their eyes. Santana lifts and tackles her friend to the center of spray. Delighted shrieks and half assed payback ensue. The lights from nearby streetlamps reveal their smiling faces as they play around with the innocence of children. There's no question, they're always going to be close.

/

_After College (2016- 2020) - Quinn_

Quinn doesn't actually finish her course; after Santana leaves the blonde has no reasons to stay. None of it appealed to her anymore. So she schedules a meeting with the dean and makes plans to head home. Lima is exactly as she left it. That idea alone is comforting and disturbing at the same time.

Walking into Breadstix, the waitress is the same middle-aged redhead. The customers are at that barely acceptable level of rowdiness, as jocks talk about their next game and cheerleaders gossip under their breaths. The streets are calmer and due to a nature of a small town, stores are actually closed at reasonable hours. Judy is happy to see her daughter. The older blonde is surprisingly nonchalant about the unfinished school term. When the pianist asks, the mother simply shrugs her shoulders. Years of wisdom are etched in her face. The mother mentions that regardless of everyone's expectations, she holds Quinn's happiness above all else.

/

Quinn stands at the counter of Hummel and Son's Auto Shop. She's about to call out when a tall figure comes out from the back. Eyes widen in recognition and a welcoming grin is directed her way. Within seconds she's engulfed in a powerful hug that lifts her off her feet. She returns it with the same enthusiasm, making the concession to ignore the grease contacting with her skin.

"Finn, put her down."

A laughing voice calls from the back as Kelsey emerges with a spanner and a heavy folder. Embarrassed, Finn steps aside, letting the girls get reacquainted. They whisper and turn their heads to look at him every now and then. Kelsey's engagement ring gleams beneath the rays of the sun. It unnerves him to no end.

Eventually, Quinn walks up to him.

"White gold band with a tasteful emerald, I approve Finn."

The boy grins in relief, waiting for his heart rate to slow down. He thinks that there'll always be a part of him that looks up to Quinn regarding areas of romance. It doesn't matter that her relationship had fallen apart because deep down _she always known who Rachel Berry _is. And that alone, is her opening, the one trait that she has over anyone else in the world. _It is the one thing that makes sense when the world is in shambles. _

The trio settles in at the local park, catching each other up. They discuss the couple's wedding plans and life after high school. Quinn talks about being bored by her studies and needing a break. Finn and Kelsey's eyes are compassionate, offering her their home and various odd jobs. Despite the pianist's considerable trust fund, Kelsey understands Quinn's need to keep busy. And…Finn could always use the extra help, especially in the coming months.

The news is broken. Kelsey is pregnant and they want to name _Quinn_ the godmother. The request brings tears to all their eyes.

/

In time, the pianist stops looking for who she used to be. She challenges her old misconceptions by believing that high school really isn't everything. State champions can struggle and the overlooked wallflower might take the world by storm. So in the present, with the new role entrusted to her, she builds herself up again, quirk by quirk and mannerism by mannerism. She hopes that the singer might still consider this familiar stranger.

/

Across many state lines, Rachel Berry signs a document in a room filled with mounted records and celebrity faces. In that moment, the girls make the decision to change and grow up a little more. The brunette takes down her treasured Wicked poster. She sighs and her eyes water at the memories. And as her hands tremble, Santana and Brittany take a second glossy print from her grip. They put it up with tack and glue. With an extreme amount of care, they smooth out the wrinkles and give it the characteristic charming angle. _In bold print, the words stand out under the lamplight…_

"_Letters to Chicago… debuting Miss Rachel Berry (from Julliard)...Critic's choice. Summer must see!"_

There are defining events in one's life that, like a domino reaction sets the direction and pace for future events. To go against it would require insanity and bravery, most likely a mixture of the two. This is Rachel and Quinn's moment. And unknowingly, they move a little farther from whom they were and each other.

/

Rachel has her Broadway debut. Critics that enjoyed her previous college production sing praises in the page long reviews. Letters to Chicago is a mainstream success and slowly the singer's name becomes known all around the globe. The brunette develops a new identity in the eyes of others as talented, gorgeous and a breath of fresh air to the nearly forgotten stages of New York. Nearly over night, fans, agents and competitors surround her. And she just tries to forget that she was once upon a time lonely.

Quinn follows her career with a quiet sort of devotion. The blonde smiles upon hearing the singer's voice on the radio or on the television screens as she walks past the local electronics shop. Lima is proud of Rachel Berry and is excited whenever she mentions her hometown to the press. Members of New Direction are happy, knowing that their predictions had come true. They can't wait to catch up with the singer. And Quinn? She gives up on any sort of front. Pretending that she didn't still _care_ about Rachel was hard and draining. She gives up on the notion that out of sight could ever be out of mind or out of her heart.

Surprisingly, it's during that unconditional surrender that peace finds her. In a rare moment, she'll sit in front of her piano, the very same one that taught the singer of her secret passions. It starts with one key and then a second, soon there's a tune played with trembling fingers. And like Shakespeare with a quill or Leonardo with a set of paints, she creates tangible love stories that could be called art.

/

In a Late Night Letterman segment, Rachel once comments that fame could sometimes be a hindrance. When asked by the interviewer, her gaze would grow distant and she'll tell the world that sometimes she misses the quiet moments where she could walk into any little coffee shop in New York and be anonymous.

For some reason, those almost wistful words have an impact. In Lima, Quinn rescues a struggling bookshop and turns it into a hole in the wall music café. Within months, it is known to provide harbor and shelter for the broken hearted. Disconnected businessmen passing through find a chair and let their guards down. For the first time in a while, they'll shut off their phones and hold tightly to their worn wedding bands as they fall apart. It is easier, under the protection of a small town.

Likewise, angry teens go straight for a corner booth where they tap their hands erratically and cry over unexpected fights and betrayals. They might go to the piano in the corner and play, if they know how. The establishment doesn't hold liquor, but sometimes sad music and the company of like-minded others is enough.

The blonde is a trusted stranger, counselor and guardian of those in a fractured state. Quinn doesn't think that she'll ever see Rachel come through the aged ringing door but she's comforted by the idea that somewhere in the world that there exists a place where the singer can go if things become a too much. Lines of forgotten songs are carefully printed on the walls.

_Tonight a candle lights the room,_

_Tonight it's only me and you,_

_Your skin, like gravity_

_Is pulling every part of me,_

_I fall, you and I collide_

_And I wish I was a camera sometimes _

_So, I could take your picture with my mind _

_Put it in a frame for you to see _

_How beautiful you really are to me _

_Please your forever_

_Not a day less will do_

_From you…_

/

After some time, Quinn eventually develops the courage to visit McKinley High. She feels bad, because Mr Schue and the music room should have been her _first_ destination. Still, with a visitor's tag she walks down the hallways. Several seniors recognize her back from when they were younger and wide-eyed. The pianist traces her old routes. It amuses her that ever since her first days at the school; she had always spent some part of her day around Rachel's locker, even if only to pay an insult.

Behind the football field, there's a large oak tree. Originally, it had the names of two impulsive couples, etched into the bark. Brittany and Santana. Quinn and Rachel. It had been an attempt at romance by four kids trying to convey some kind of permanence in their changing adolescence. Now after the years, there are 6 more names, evidence of _other_ ongoing stories. Quinn wishes them the best, hoping that they realize that those frightening relationship statistics mean _nothing_ to the individual, because she didn't. Dumbly, she believed that logic could dictate emotions.

/

The pianist is about to reach the choir room when she cringes. A voice calls her from behind.

"Blonde Teen Pregnancy! Stop, I need to speak to you in my office."

As a remnant from her student years, she suppresses her annoyance as she faces the principal. The Indian educator has remained mostly the same in his cheap brown suit jacket and woolen vest. However there seemed to be more lines on his face, a likely byproduct of aging and stress.

"You do realize that I have already had my baby right?"

She asks, genuinely curious. Granted she had never had as many instances with him as Tina, she still thought that he was one of the stranger characters at McKinley. The man furrows his brows and is about to open his mouth to say something before thinking better of it. Instead, he shakes his head hastily and waves her into his workspace. She takes a seat on the couch, feeling odd and out of place.

"So what do you want?"

"I need you to come back to McKinley."

The man utters as he sits down behind the desk. It's in that position that he feels instantly calmer as some measure of confidence returns. He is reminded that he is the head of the school despite the consternations of Sue Sylvester.

"No."

The reply is prompt and blunt, unnerving the educator. He readjusts his clasped hands in an attempt to turn away from the dissecting gaze of the blonde. He also makes a mental note to avoid Sue's kids in the future. But for now, all he can do is try again.

"The students need you."

"They don't even know me. I'm not even a _teacher_."

Principal Figgins sighs. In a voice that belies his stress and fatigue, he tries to explain.

"Sue is up to her old tricks again, using some very unorthodox methods to train the cheerios and the softball team."

At this, the pianist frowns. Coach was a little bit if a taskmaster, it shouldn't come as a surprise. She feels an old loyalty and defensiveness come into play. Quinn respects Sue Sylvester. There really isn't much else to it. She might not agree with or even like the woman most of the time, but in their roles as teacher and student; that hadn't mattered. Sue had continued to look out for her cheerios in her own way, even after they defected to the glee club.

"She gets results. They're national champions."

The older man rubs his face in a nervous habit before reaching for a loose printout.

"Yes, but the school is not insured for…pyrotechnics and the psychological impacts of PTSD! I need those parents happy and generous."

The man looks to the past student imploringly. When she doesn't respond, his shoulders drop as he considers the fact that he might have to tell her the truth. Out of all the students Will's glee club, Quinn Fabray was one of the few that he had never encountered. Her problems had never reached his purview, probably because she was far too autonomous to allow it to come to that, already an adult in student's clothing. The Indian man realizes that perhaps that is the reason why she is best suited. Sue Sylvester won't intimidate her. It's almost seems like even ground between the two.

"Miss Fabray, Sue has made 10 out of 20 cheerios cry and quit in the last month, _alone_. There is something going on with her."

The principal's voice is weak and uncharacteristically caring. And it's the change, which catches Quinn's attention. She bites her lip and truly considers his worry. His job is to look after the school; a task that he never really bothers with until it violates some sort of health code or parental expectation. His job is also to direct the teachers, but truthfully only one woman kept McKinley in shape. So when Principal Figgins actively shows concern over Sue Sylvester, the pianist can't help but believe that something _must_ be wrong. That thought chills her more than she's willing to admit.

Quinn heads to the door. Before she leaves she'll tell the man.

"I'm not staying, but I'll have a look."

/

"Jackie! I knew I would regret giving you the chance to join the cheerios! Is that a nose ring I see? Are you going to join the local biker club? No? Then get rid of it, I will not have my cheerleaders running around like hookers from the 9'oclock show!"

Biting words cut across the football field as a group of fatigued and scared girls try their utmost to maintain the triangular formation. From the top of the bleachers Quinn smiles gently, reliving some past moments.

When Santana had been forced to the bottom due to her breast surgery, the Latina used to purposely fake a loss of strength if only to get back at the pianist who had taken her position on top.

Another round of abuse sails through the air. This time, with the annoying shrill of McKinley's only working megaphone. Quinn flinches internally, confused by the amount of venom.

Finally, she draws her eyes to her old leader. At first glance, Sue looks largely the same in her red tracksuit. Her face seems to be twisted into that familiar mocking scowl as she waves her hands, gesturing about mistakes and inadequacies. And Quinn supposes that that was the reason why Figgins wanted her to come back. Because… out of all the descriptions given, that was only the surface, what any passerby could tell.

However _a former student_ would be able to tell you that the coach was breathing differently, two breaths per every six words. It's more than what most people needed, let alone by a woman that prided herself on running times and bench presses.

Similarly, _a tentative friend_ could see that she was actually having trouble coming up with appropriate insults because in the past ten minutes she must have exhausted her extensive pool. Instead she'll resort to staring the students down.

However, most importantly, _a young Sue Sylvester_ could explain that there was deep rage in those ice blue eyes disproportionate the actions of her girls. At the back of her mind, Quinn would label it as fear. It surprises her, but she's sure in her observation, because fundamentally they were quite similar. They were always better at concentrating on others than their own shortcomings.

Quinn makes her way down as Sue dismisses the squad. She doesn't need to say anything. The coach has already turned around to meet her. When it is just the two of them outside, Sue loses some of her ire, looking less and less like the person that Quinn had once been afraid of. The older woman covers her surprise about the pianist's appearance with a frown.

"Q."

"Sue."

The scene feels like they're two generals going to the center of the battlefield to shake hands. It is probably an exaggeration but Sue always did have a dramatic air.

"What are you doing here? Don't you have that sorry excuse for a coffee shop to manage?"

Quinn smiles at the sarcastic comment, expecting nothing else. She'll also wonder if it was a hard thing to achieve, _to remain the same after so many years. _It seems like a very courageous trait to have: the ability to be resistant to the threats of the world_. _

"Perks of being the owner I guess."

The statement is said nonchalantly. Sue doesn't say much in response, simply choosing to glare into the distance. However, she also _doesn't_ leave. In some miniscule manner, there's a part of her that wants the company of somebody she trusts. Of course, she'll never say any of these things out loud. She could never suppress her pride. And, Quinn finds that she understands. That's why she tries conversation going, even if it was in an aimless and false direction.

"Sue, the new girls aren't that bad. In fact, this far into the competition they better prepared than Brittany, Santana and I were."

The older woman grunts. Her jaw clenches as she starts to tap her leg agitatedly. The externalization of her worry causes Quinn's eyes to quietly widen. She can't help but be direct this time.

"Is something wrong?"

The question causes Sue to sit straight and turn to look at the pianist. Her eyes are defeated and tired, but she still doesn't yield. Instead, a gravelly warning slips out.

"Don't make me kick you out of the practice area, Q"

She doesn't mean it. They both know it. But, somehow mixed in with the uncharacteristic murmurs and actions, there's a quiet plea for the pianist to just _leave it alone_.

There are two things that need to be known. Quinn joined glee to control and monitor her then-boyfriend, Finn Hudson. She later stayed for the music and friends.

However, Quinn joined _cheerios_ because she didn't want to be a victim anymore. She trusted Coach Sue Sylvester to push, but not break her. So while, Sue was every sort of demanding, she was also the first adult to live up to expectations. Sue was upfront. She taught Quinn how to be strong and how to protect herself.

And right now, that person wants Quinn to step down. So even if the pianist _is_ worried and has made promises to Figgins, she'll acquiesce because her loyalty lies with the woman that helped her.

Sometimes there is no beauty or merit in the truth and falling apart. To a select few personalities, it is unacceptable, crippling and leaves a permanent scar, far worse than denial. So instead, they simply share the space, finding the silence strangely therapeutic to their fracturing lives.

/

The pianist continues down the halls after Sue leaves for her next training session.

"Quinn!"

A familiar voice calls out. The blonde turns slowly as smile appears on her face. She hurries in her haste to hug the music teacher.

'Mr Schue! It's so good to see you. How Miss Pillsbury?"

"She's great, happily cleaning our new house. We're thinking about getting a puppy now that her OCD has gotten better."

The man's eyes light up when he mentions the redhead. His eyes crinkle at the sides and for that moment he's invincible, protected by the thought that love is waiting for him at home.

"I'm so happy for you."

Quinn says softly. The seriousness of the statement falls on both of them. Mr Schue nods, finding that the blonde hasn't changed as much as every other New Directions member claimed. After having to start all over again, she is dealing well, accepting that she can't control everything, least of all her emotions.

During the pause, a song would start to play on a student's music device as they walk past. The radio DJ introduces the latest number one hit, Rachel Berry's "Wanted you more." The lyrics are angry and hurt, the release of some bottled up heartbreak. Santana had tried to warn Quinn about the content, but it didn't change the impact. The blonde can feel the pain she caused and she's ashamed. More often than not, she's struck frozen by the emotions swirling in the singer's voice. And though, the blonde tries not to be selfish and think that the music is all about her, _all for her_ even, but she finds that she can't. It still feels like Rachel right there in front of her with that short-checkered skirt and interesting sweater.

I kept waiting on a reason

And a call that never came

No, I never saw it coming

Something in you must have changed

The goal had been to get the singer into a recording studio to face her demons, and answer why she too hasn't tried to see the blonde, because despite it all, their separation wasn't _just_ Quinn's fault. However, they forget that celebrities are never quite alone. The recording is underhandedly taken by the nearest hungry paparazzi member.

All the words unspoken, promises broken

I cried for so long

Wasted too much time, should've seen the signs

Now I know just what went wrong

As it gets released into the Internet ether, the only way for Rachel Berry to move forward is to announce it as a single. It was the only way she could still protect Quinn from the glaring opinions of her fans and television hosts. Because, a song on an album doesn't have to be real, but a secret cathartic one would undoubtedly stir interest. People would dig and dig, trying to satisfy a greedy curiosity. And with the nature of the girls' past, their one perfect thing could be twisted into something horrible. And that…would be an action that would hurt both of them.

I guess I wanted you more

And looking back now, I'm sure

I wanted you more

I guess I wanted you more

Rachel isn't entirely sure what she believes. She finds it disconcerting because whilst she knows that the lyrics are false, her mind still clings to the thought in a steadfast manner. It was her way of trying to make sense. Nobody was ever supposed to hear her moments of blame and self-pity. She never wanted her music to hurt Quinn. The pianist still meant more than any of her attempts to move on.

All the nights we spent, just talking

Of the things we wanted out of life

Making plans and dreams together

Wish I'd seen, I was just too blind

Everyone living in the world of both girls realize that they need to get passed this relationship. It wasn't healthy. It isn't normal and they're slowly closing themselves off whether they know or even care.

The small town girl that became a celebrity performs for the cameras, goes out to bars and kisses many faceless people, praying for a connection. Rachel needs something to show her that she doesn't have to wait for Quinn, that love comes in more than one person. But the problem is that, at night, in her penthouse bedroom, she always hums to herself. And, it's only when Brittany or Santana points it out that she realizes the tune is always something that the pianist wrote for her… _And just like that, it's ten times harder to walk away when she's lonely…_

Likewise, the ex-cheerleader that became a small business owner performs for the few patrons hiding out in her café. She helps babysit her godson, telling him stories of how two princesses fell in love, hoping that one day soon she can find it within herself to use that open ticket to New York she keeps in her purse. Quinn needs to know that she's still something that the singer wants, that she's not going to hurt Rachel again. But _her _problemis that, when she watches the singer in her interviews, she can see that something is wrong. And it is only when Finn and Kelsey pack her bags and usher her to the train station that Quinn figures it out. Rachel might be in love with her still, but she _doesn't_ want to be. The singer has finally arrived, grasping that people should be _chasing_ her, _wishing_ for a place in her affections. And right now, it can't be Quinn. The thought is scary and debilitating. Instead, the pianist continues to write music and it is only when she sings the lyrics out loud that it becomes obvious who her inspiration has always been…_And again, it's ten times harder to walk away when she's lonely_…

My heart was open, exposed and hoping

For you to lay it on the line

In the end it seemed

There was no room for me

Still, I tried to change your mind

Mr Schue feels his shoulders drop. He is so proud of both girls but for different reasons.

He admires the blonde because she manages to take the song with patience and calm. The light in her hazel eyes dims a little, but she understands that results don't describe the intention. Angry actions _isn't_ the absence of caring. The blonde loves the singer unconditionally. So she can accept the criticism, knowing that this was the brunette's first real effort at closure. Rachel's voice sounds beaten and weathered. In the end, it is a movement forward that feels nothing like progress.

I guess I wanted you more

And looking back now, I'm sure

Oh, I don't need you

I don't need you anymore

And somewhere else, Rachel, gives up so much for Quinn to remain unknown and unhindered. When asked about the target of the song, she distracts the reporters and photographers at her own expense. She lets her life be a little more like a circus, exposing her college misadventures to public scrutiny. And as the world eagerly consumes the information about her _diva moments and fictitious illicit relations_, Rachel manages to keep Quinn safe and out of the destruction of her fame.

Mr Schue likes to think that such devotion is beyond that of two people who are supposedly just not meant to be. However, as an adult, he finally sees that the largest cause of relationship failure is timing, where people swear up and down that things could have worked in another place, another time or another _reality_.

"I'm sorry Quinn. The interviews and the radio, this must be hard for you."

The music teacher speaks quietly, praying that he won't offend. But the blonde only smiles sadly, pondering her next words. She's so careful when it comes to Rachel, refusing to lie and trying not to spiral. Slowly, she manages to confess.

"Sometimes it's terrifying... You know, when Rachel manages to be _everywhere at once_…"

The blonde swallows thickly before finally meeting Mr Schue's gaze.

"But then I figure, it's because she _is_ on billboards and radios that waking up is ok, because maybe, she hasn't really left me yet..."

Mr Schue nods. He wants that illusion to last for as long as she needs it to. Clearing his throat, he tries to bring her out of the morose thought.

"For what it's worth I'm glad you're here now. You're making the right choice."

"What choice?"

The blonde asks confusedly, finally coming out of her trance. Mr Schue is surprised by the question, furrowing his brows, as a flash of worry crosses his face.

"Wait, aren't you here because of Sue? Didn't she tell you? I just thought…"

The words are trapped in his head, as his lips move in question. Quinn is thankful for the opportunity to shelve her attachment to Rachel, focusing on the situation at hand. This is the second time Sue is brought up in a worried context and Quinn feels a creeping apprehension. She's tired of the half answers.

"Mr Schue, what's going on? I had Principal Figgins practically beg me to stay."

The music teacher takes a deep breath. He wants to elaborate but it is not his place. He hasn't been able to help much and it is frustrating. Sue isn't an island, nobody really is.

"Talk to her Quinn. She could really use somebody…"

/

Towards the end of day, Quinn walks passed Sue's office. Mr Schue's words cause her to pause. Her hand ends up hovering over the doorknob and she's sure that she's not equipped to deal with what lay behind the closed door. The funny thing about it all was that it didn't matter. Quinn breaks all her new rules about an uncomplicated life because there is a person that needs help. After all her years and transformations, Rachel's high school lessons stuck, causing the blonde to knock on the door. This is how she feels _close_.

"Go away."

The command is instantaneous, leaking with frustration and impatience. There's a sort of rustling, a thump and then a torrent of swearing. The younger blonde bites her lip and opens the door. She goes in, bracing herself for the worst.

"Look Sue, I need to talk t – "

The scene she is met with, takes all thought from her mind. Afternoon sunrays are bleeding through the metal blinders casting interesting highlights all over the room. Three things cause her heart to stop.

Sue is hunched over her desk… Her hands are shaking uncontrollably… And, there are little white pills scattered everywhere.

Quinn's presence is ignored. The pianist feels a new strain of helplessness, watching the coach repeatedly try to salvage some of the remains. The tremors in her hands cause the older woman to fail. But still, she continues with quiet determination. And, as she succeeds on every fifth attempt, there's a thin film of moisture in her eyes along with the realization of the futility of the situation.

It is a different moment, but definite parallels can be drawn between their personalities. _Quinn_, finally roused from her shock, walks carefully to her mentor. She forces her face to be emotionless. Sue would not appreciate pity. Sue needed somebody strong and detached. However, there is an inherent softness to the pianist's actions as she eases the pill bottles from the older woman's hands. Without a word, she starts to pick up the white tablets nearest to her. It takes seconds, minutes and maybe hours. And, during the process, an understanding is shared.

Quinn pretends that she doesn't know what the names on the prescription mean: heart attacks and weak muscle walls.

And Sue acts as if the pianist never even saw them in the first place…

However, the next day the younger blonde goes to Principal's Figgins office and tells him that she'll take his offer to be a temporary staff member. She'll head to the first softball practice of the day and stand next to Sue at the starting line. The coach will grunt, roll her eyes and even make snide comments but she doesn't order Quinn to leave, _not once_. Doctor's appointments are spent in silent camaraderie. The advice for healthier diet and less caffeine are relayed to the pianist in hopes that Sue will comply. They're just glad that the coach now has a name to fill for her _emergency contact_.

Mr Schue and Ms Pilbury look so grateful when they see the normally callous woman drag Quinn aside to discuss the latest game plan or choreography. The principal breathes a sigh of relief when the number of crying cheerleaders starts to drop. And, the rest of the student population wonders why anybody with a college ticket away would ever voluntarily return to Lima. They wonder about the haunted quality to the new assistant coach's hazel eyes.

This is Quinn's life for a while and despite all her old disdain about 'never getting out of Lima' she realizes that the situation is different when it's her own choice. The small town is where she remembers Rachel Berry the best, visiting their past haunts and having lunch with the singer's fathers. Leroy doesn't tell Rachel about their continued contact, out of deference to the pianist. Instead, they simply bond over the long distance brunette. The tall African-American forces the pianist to eat ice cream again. Whilst, Quinn learns that the two men see their daughter a lot less now, between the media and the music tours.

/

There's a rare television interview buried in the Internet somewhere, where Rachel goes against her recording label's wishes and releases a new single to the public. The act causes uproar because it is rash, unplanned and a little too honest to be a mainstream success. Still in that thirty-minute segment, the world gets to feel a lot closer to one of their idols as she tries to give a past relationship a proper ending: thank you for the memories…thank you for being someone worth dropping everything for.

So in the scene, Rachel is sitting on a plush couch angled to face a middle-aged interviewer who has a smile far too bright to be considered normal. A studio crowd of 80 people watches with rapt attention. Not for the first time since the Broadway success started, the singer feels like she's in a fishbowl where everything she does is newsworthy and dissected. The difference now, is that she's no longer the bright-eyed ingénue waiting for her shot. No, now she is an international star, who has been in spotlight for the last four years. And after doing so many albums, musicals and television roles she's finally taking the time to stop and breathe, evaluating her life. She manages to place her conclusions in a song. The product is far too emotional and serious for an 8 o'clock morning interview, but Rachel can't bring herself to care. This one performance isn't for the fans or the record label. Instead, it's for an ex-childhood bully; ex-cheerleader and ex-girlfriend, who hopefully still cares enough to find it.

"So Rachel, you don't give us a lot to work with here about your love life. Is there anything you can tell us about this song?"

The interviewer asks in that booming voice. This was the thing that had always alienated the singer about television presenters: the duplicity of it all. Their facial expressions and coaxing tone implied friendship, trust and the possibility of secrecy. However, the hidden meaning in their questions and the intrusive nature of studio microphones communicate a darker need to uncover something scandalous. Still, Rachel tries to push those thoughts from her as she fidgets with her hands. She tries to summon her media smile and to bluff confidence. However in this circumstance, it is harder because Quinn was something she could never just ghost over. She can't lie and say that she could forget everything; that she didn't want forever. So in moment of indecisiveness, something truthful slips out…

"I – I don't know. All I can say is that I've been working on this one for a very long time…"

The camera pans around to Rachel and zooms in on her facial expression. The singer looks lost in another place as she mutters under her breath.

"Since high school really…"

The audience releases collective 'awww.' The noise rouses Rachel and she remembers that she's not alone. She remembers how to tread the Hollywood line between honesty and damage. And as she takes a glance at the eager faces in the front row, she sees a few couples. Each one has one part of their body touching as they sneak looks at each other when they think that no one else is looking. It's sweet. It's real. And most importantly it's _familiar_. Rachel thinks that she can still recall the feel of Quinn's gaze form when they used to watch movies at the local cinema. A remnant of a smile tugs at the corner of her lips.

"I guess I'm finally ready to sing it. I hope my fans like it and can maybe relate to it."

The interviewer nods enthusiastically, leaning forward as if to share a secret.

"Well Rachel it's about heartbreak right? I think that we can all find something in that. However, I have to admit it sounds like there's a lot more to your story. The lyrics talk about a long-time boyfriend, right?"

The brunette bites her bottom lip. It is another nervous gesture. It's another trait that the singer thought that she buried along with her attachment to Quinn Fabray. It just seems that she didn't do either very well. So instead she tries to clear her voice and say.

"…Something like that…"

Rachel takes a deep breath, reaching for her sheet music. And when she has her band mates and her guitar organized around the table, she finally looks up. She's throws all she knows about PR management out the window in the hopes of a _real_ moment where she finally makes the decision to jump of the carousel ride that only ever led back to Quinn

"I think that we all meet somebody who is everything to us. And ... sometimes it doesn't work out. We don't understand why and we never really figure it out. But, this is my attempt."

With that, the starting chords are played. The singer has her eyes closed as her body sways to the music. When she opens her eyes, she tries to brush the bangs from her face. And as her hand reaches her cheek it occurs to her that she's shaking. For the first time in a while she's scared, excited and unsure about what happens next. Rachel been on more than 100 stages, but when she's singing for a certain blonde, everything feels new again. It feels like Quinn has been with her all along.

However in the end that comforting thought is not true. So Rachel convinces herself that this is the last time she uses Quinn as an excuse for not moving on. She's finally going to stop being lonely. And it is going to be _hard_. It is going to feel wrong, like some form of cheating; but she'll finally stop lying to herself. She'll stop hoping that the last 6 years were just a horrible nightmare.

Rachel looks up and stares straight at the camera. Her voice is measured, trying to hide the pain

"I don't think that I'll ever let this person go but it's really high time that I start trying. Waiting isn't good for either of us. So this is goodbye and thank you for something that I don't know how to put into words."

The brunette starts to sing the first few lines.

I finally asked you to dance

On the last slow song

And beneath the moon that was really a disco ball

Sometimes when Rachel has her eyes closed and she's on stage, there's an instant under the all the flash photography and bright spotlights where her mind travels back to prom. She'd feel like she was back in that funny smelling building that hosted whole school assemblies and torturous gym classes. And if she were feeling particularly weak, she would remember how dry her throat was that night. So much so that she didn't really speak. She couldn't even tell Quinn how painstakingly beautiful she was in her gray gown, not even when it seemed like the only thing that mattered. Instead, she had held her hand out that night, a silent request for a dance in front of everyone, _all those people_, because the thought that the pianist would ever be alone seemed like a crime. Rachel didn't feel brave normally, but she was that night…

I can still feel my head on your shoulder

Hoping that song would never be over

I haven't seen you in ages

Sometimes I find myself

Wondering where you are

There was so many times where Rachel would find herself thinking about Quinn. It would happen when she was shopping for groceries, hanging out on the tour bus or during her rare breaks between scenes. At the beginning it was questions like why did they need to break up: things that she really didn't want answers for. Towards the end, the past just seemed to disappear and instead of the accusing questions all that's left is the plea for a little bit of information, something to tell her that the pianist was alright.

Sometimes, Santana or Brittany would accidentally leave a picture of Quinn out on the table. And Rachel would stare at it, feeling like she'd never let it go.

For me you'll always be 18

And beautiful and dancing away with my heart

I brushed your curls back so I could see your eyes

And the way you moved me was like you were reading my mind

I can still feel you lean into kiss me

As a child, Rachel had many hopes about what a first kiss would be like, and who her prince charming would be. Would the stubble of her boyfriend gently graze her cheek or would he be clean-shaven and romantic with his butterfly kisses? It was supposed to be this passionate explosive experience that would pave the way for a future relationship. So, as elementary and high school years continued to pass, Rachel eventually lost hope. Finn was the closest, because, in that auditorium and on a stage_, it almost felt right_... It felt good enough.

However in senior year, the singer is broken from that illusion. That special first kiss _happens_, but not in the way that she'd ever imagine. Instead, she's on hardwood floors and there's drunken catcalls and loud dance music in the distance. A soft weight warms her body and lips clumsily move together, tasting of wine coolers and Jack Daniels. Rachel would barely recall it the coming weeks, but despite that, it is everything she ever wanted _in the moment_.

So, Rachel finds that she needs to revisit her previous expectations. She would choose delicate cheekbones over a chiseled jaw. She'd choose soft curves over hard muscles. In short, Rachel would always choose Quinn over any childhood dreams of a perfect man. With that thought in mind, she closes her eyes and sings the question that has been on her mind, ever since Lima.

I can't help but wonder if you ever miss me

I haven't seen you in ages

Sometimes I find myself

Wondering where you are

For me you'll always be 18

And beautiful and dancing away with my heart

The interlude plays and memories of their dances come to mind: in the ice cream parlor, in the Thai restaurant and in the high school gymnasium. It had given them brief moments of escape from their usual roles. But, now as Rachel holds the hem of her shirt tightly and the music builds to a confrontation, she thinks that she's finally ready to face the truth.

Oh you headed out to college

At the end of that summer and we lost touch

I guess I didn't realize even at that moment we lost so much

The music slows to a near stop and from here on out; only one acoustic guitar is played in the background. The singer carries the chorus one last time. There's a sense of fragility and vulnerability that is absent from any of her other performances as she pushes through the memories and the tightening feeling in her throat.

I haven't seen you in ages

Sometimes I find myself

Wondering where you are

For me you'll always be 18

And beautiful and dancing away with my heart

The segment ends with Rachel singing the last word in a heartbreaking tone. A tear slips down her face, as she tries to look away from the clambering crowds and cameras.

She knows that it sounds like a sad song. She knows that afterwards she'll be moving on. But, even if there is only a second left in this relationship, all Rachel wants to do is stay, think, and _remember. _

/

Over the years, the blonde often thinks about going to look for Rachel in New York. She thinks about walking up to the brunette and apologizing, hoping that they could find what was lost. There's always a moment when her heart lifts and she thinks that the distance and time in between them can be erased. In her mind Rachel Berry might still say _yes_. But, the moment goes away….

And then, Quinn remembers the past and her current responsibilities in everyone's life in Lima… She's her mother's bingo partner at local church gatherings. She's the godmother to little Jamie Hudson. She's Sue Sylvester's strange version of a next of kin. But most importantly Quinn _isn't_ the man or woman in the magazine pictures that gets to hug, kiss and make a life with Rachel Berry. She hasn't managed Rachel's _anything_ for a while now.

Today is one of Quinn's days off from school and she sits in front of the public piano at her café. The booths and tables are empty. It must be a slow day. And contrary to most business owners, the blonde is happy whenever there are no customers because it means that even if it was just for a second, there are no broken hearted. So in the brief moments of peace, she places her fingers on the keys and works out a song. It's about a girl; it's _always_ about a girl_…the one who managed to change everything._

As she starts to sing, the pianist often wonders if music is a strong enough medium to carry messages over state lines.

Tell her she is all that's beautiful

Tell her everything's my fault

Tell her this is not what I had planned

Tell I am moving on

A sad smile appears on her face. Her eyes are closed to stop the tears. In their time apart, Quinn traces Rachel's life through pictures, interviews and articles where she learns about the singer's relationships and fashion changes. It never occurs to her she shouldn't _be_ a part of Rachel's life _only _as a third party, because she's long since given up her rights to anything. But still, as she buys the magazines and TiVo's the television segments, she, unlike most others, can tell when the happiness is real through subtleties only known by lovers and close friends.

Finn and Kelsey think that's the problem. Quinn is alone in a long-term relationship that exists only in her mind and heart. So somehow, she won't cheat and she turns down anyone that asks for a chance. The cute waitress, Jackie, that works in the café has been turned down four times, but she's ready for the fifth because from the way the small town responds to Quinn Fabray she can tell that the blonde is someone special. And from the way Quinn can talk an anxious teen down from the break-up ledge, it is obvious that she's a romantic…always hoping for _someday…_

The pianist breathes heavily and the past year floats into her mind. Rachel has been active, between high profile projects and people. The singer loves freely, getting a bit more hurt each time. Quinn leans her forehead against the front of her piano. She wishes…_she just hopes…that this is what Rachel really wants_ because Quinn is still willing to give her everything she wants, despite how much it hurts. If Rachel asks, the blonde can try to force herself to move on. And from the encouragement of her friends, family and even Sue Sylvester, Quinn thinks that she is finally going to try. So this is her apology, her closure and her effort to put an extraordinary relationship away. It doesn't happen as much as Hollywood portrays, high school couples rarely cross the lines of popularity. Looking back, she sees it all; it was all of Rachel's many imperfections that she had fallen for.

Tell her love will come around, someday

Please tell her not to cry

I never meant for love to leave her cold tonight

Please tell her that I tried to spare her all my lies

Tell her something

Quinn looks away through the window to the outside. The sky is a perfect blue and for a moment the world seems easy, if you weren't sitting in this room that is. The blonde finds herself looking up to the ceiling, maybe for forgiveness or courage, she just doesn't know anymore. She's the straw man and the tin man at the same time because every day she _isn't_ with Rachel she feels like a coward. And it has been so long since her heart skipped a beat that the organ feels non-existent and deadened by the lack of use.

So because she is a musician and because this is what Rachel, Mr Schue and all the people in New Directions taught her, Quinn tries to find peace in a song. The media continues to splash the singer's breakups without a care and all the blonde can do is apologize. She might have been the one to start this.

Tell her I am lost in misery

Tell her I have lost my mind

Tell her love is such a mystery

Tell her tunnels end in light

As she sings Quinn finds that she can't stop the hope from seeping into her voice. More times than not, she feels like a schizophrenic as her current outlook fights with old memories in her mind. The lie is that distance and time makes thing easier. It doesn't, but it seems that you are simply more equipped to deal with the difficulties. Despite it all, the brunette is the _exception,_ causing the pianist to waver and become lost. The blonde simply pleads for mercy on their wrecked composures.

Tell her love will come around, someday

But please tell her not to cry

I never meant for love to leave her cold tonight

Please tell her that I tried to spare her all my lies

Tell her something

The solemn music slows down to become firm and resolved.

I cannot say all that my heart longs to tell her

That nothing can change

That all of these words are not enough

Tell her she is all that's beautiful

Tell her everything's my fault

The words are quiet and dejectedly uttered because the world doesn't stop to accommodate sad love songs and the moment is… over. The last verse is sung in a trembling light pitch. Quinn's irregular and untrained breathing interrupts the flowing lyrics. However, like all masterpieces written for Rachel, the merriment of melody and words is exquisite in its emotion, part of an old compilation of songs that still strive to ignite _something._

Please tell her not to cry

I never meant for love to leave her cold tonight

Please tell her that I tried to spare her all my lies

Tell her something

The music tapers off but before the last note is played, a sarcastic voice calls out from the back of the room.

"Tell her yourself."

Quinn pauses, before raising her head to look over the instrument. An amused eyes roll and a head shake slips out.

"Santana!"

The Latina is dressed in sharp high heels and a business suit, each component intimidating in its own right. Her right hand rests on her canted hips and she casts a skeptical eye to her blonde friend. She's clearly a city girl looking out of place in the empty coffee shop. Under the sunlight, even dust particles seem to fall slower and _around_ her. She's a welcome sight and Quinn walks over to wrap her arms around her friend. The familiarity of the Latina's awkward pat in response, feels like reassurance from some much missed company. The darker girl's voice resonates in her ear.

"Damn right, Santana. Who else would take time and come all the way from New York just visit you in the middle of the goddamn day?"

The comment is said with a smirk as she places her expensive bags and belongings onto the table. Santana takes an appraising gaze around, walking over to the corners and windows. Her finger touches some surfaces, grimacing at the somewhat rustic quality of the place. It feels like the remains of something. And, Santana has to wonder if that's why Quinn bought it, why she seems to feel so at home in it.

"I'm glad you're here."

Quinn calls out as she takes a seat, waiting for her friend to be done. As her eyes ghost over Santana's possessions, she glad because Santana has everything that she dreamed about growing up. She has Brittany by her side and she's making her own way as a successful sought after lawyer.

Similarly the Latina leans against the windowsill and breaks her blonde friend down in a similar manner. Quinn has nothing that she ever wanted but it didn't really matter because desires change. Sometimes, with the right trigger, with the right person and with the right butterfly feelings; some people change to become more than what they were. So as the pianist, closes her eyes or twirls around to some imaginary ballad in her head, she's different, _relaxed almost._ Her actions carry that familiar sense of grace and certainty absent during their college years. Quinn's nuances finally seem convincing and honest. And it's so obvious that when her eyes temporarily ghost over she's thinking about nothing else but Rachel Barbara Berry. Santana sighs at the thought, gesturing to the large space.

"Me too, considering that I am your only customer today. Q, you do understand that a café is supposed to have people in it right? You know, drinking coffee?"

Santana speaks as if she hasn't heard the rumors and talk around town. The amazing thing is that the café is actually quite successful, because the world is never in shortage of the lost or lonely. Quinn is the stranger that pours the coffee and listens to your problems. Somehow, after all these years, she's still the person that guides others. And after so many life-changing events, it is the one quality that stays. So maybe when everything else falls away this is her gift, the integral part of her personality: the first trait that Rachel fell in love with. After all, the brunette was the one that managed to see through the cracks and barbed wire.

"So to what do I owe this honor?"

Quinn finally asks. She hates this part. It feels strange, that there has to be a reason for the visit. But their lives are in different places and the weekly phone calls don't really paint the whole picture. Thankfully, the two girls aren't ones that need constant contact. A sarcastic taunt and a witty reply is all they need to feel close. Maybe that's the difference between friends and lovers, when being apart begins to feel catastrophic.

Santana smiles gently, pushing couple of buttons on her phone and raising the device up. A voicemail message plays on the speaker.

"Captain Fake-boobs. Get your sorry self back to Lima and take Q with you. She's been moping around here long enough and she's giving me ulcer!"

Sue's unforgiving voice comes through, causing both girls to chuckle. They can care hear the grudging care in the statements. And when the laughter is done silence descends, and they both don't know how to respond. Santana recalls the song that was sung as she first entered the premises. The lyrics are everything the singer needs to hear and everything that the pianist needs to say, a way to bridge the gap and reduce the guilt and emotional burden.

For a while, they just sit there, both staring at the beautiful world outside as people and the occasional car drive past. They talk about the parts of each other's life that they've missed out on, sharing anecdotes and the rare clash in beliefs.

The Latina is in property law now, specifically in the entertainment department, helping Rachel and Brittany when they need it. At the mention of the dancer, there's a lull in the conversation where Santana seems troubled but it is another story for another time. Quinn admires that Brittany and Santana are strong enough to navigate around relationship pitfalls. Because, whilst they have disagreements, the difference is that they can keep things from becoming tragic. Brittany in her simplistic beliefs could detect the teeniest unhappiness and kiss it away. And likewise, Santana despite her caustic personality would try her damnedest not to lose patience. So when fights _do_ occur, and they can't come to the same conclusion; they never lose sight of the ending. It was going to be Britts and S together forever. Everything else just works up to that, teaching them how to appreciate each other as they grow up. They're learning like everybody else...

By the end of the day, Santana and Quinn are spread out in a large booth with Chinese food and a cheap bottle of wine, talking just to see where the conversation might go. There's a cheesy old jukebox song playing in the corner and they're laughing and placing dibs on food choices: the MuShu pork for Quinn and the Braised Chicken for Santana. Somehow, it reminds them of their nights in college where the Latina and the blonde would try and create a deception that Quinn losing Rachel didn't hurt as much as it seemed.

Eventually, Santana puts down the food and remembers why she's here. She has an idea, one that has been lingering for a while.

"What if Rachel could hear your songs Q? What if all the things you write for Rachel, she could hear… and you get to stay anonymous or like a hermit…Would you do it, if it was it was that easy?"

/

The pianist says yes… And, it's a rushed, headstrong and extremely emotion-laden decision. The first right one, she's made in a long time.

The process, on the other hand, takes a while. It is slow, natural and comfortable, almost as if life was supposed to happen like this all along. Quinn continues her routines, writing whenever inspiration strikes. The pencil tucked behind her ear and the energy to how she pens lyrics to paper surprises residents of Lima. The teenagers cock their heads in curiosity before quickly losing interest. The adults, the witnesses to Quinn and Rachel's high school romance, watch on with knowing glances. They think that perhaps there's still a little bit of magic and truth to the Cinderella stories they tell their kids lingering in the real world.

/

Over months, the pianist has a collection of songs. They paint a vivid story, grabbing audiences with the almost naïve quality of the composer as she helps others love. The tunes are patient, calming and hopeful. In a later series, the music is richer. There's a lot more passion, confusion and fear contained in the louder notes and powerful pace. The pianist hates that there are still some moments in her past that she cannot play, cannot mold into music because the memories mean far too much. She'll never be able communicate her feelings from when Rachel first trusted her enough to ask her to stay. Not when, her hands tremble at the thought of it. So, Quinn thinks that she would like to visit that New York hotel room again one day. It marked the earliest point, when denying the singer became a _hard_ _thing to do…_

Santana flies in from the big city quite often, mostly to visit her friend and occasionally to demand some progress. All the while, Quinn manages to distract her. The Latina learns to experience her hometown through different eyes, living a few days in the blonde's life. During the weekdays, Quinn wakes up in her apartment above the café. A combination of birds and low murmurs of a radio alarm is the soundtrack of her mornings. She makes a quick breakfast and eats it in the sunroom, letting the natural light wake her up. When Santana is there, the Latina's impatience will cause her to throw the occasional fruit loop at Quinn's head, playfully trying to disrupt the serene look the blonde wears. The childish action makes them laugh, taking the stress away before tackling the day. Santana finds it amusing that the current students of McKinley hold some kind of awe for the blonde. Even the obvious rebel seems to give the pianist an embarrassed nod as he brushes past, trying to hide the fact that he's a regular at her café and that she's an excellent listener. The Latina almost questions what they're doing, because it is going to take the pianist away from the small town, away from _safe and comfortable._

/

Their first success occurs in a small recording studio in New York, where Quinn and Santana are laying down the track for a demo recording. It is late in the afternoon and they're taking a break. The blonde is playing random snippets of music in the adjacent room, evidence of a fragmented romantic mind. Santana watches her friend's changing expressions through the glass. Her fingers tap the equalizers as she bites her lip. She had finally gotten through the most recent songs of the pianist. The Latina wonders how a heart could possibly break like that, and why a person wouldn't want things to get better…

Quietly, she slips into the room and places the music sheets on the top of the piano. Quinn looks up and they share a gaze. Sympathy. Empathy. Sorrow. Santana smiles gently as she moves into seat next to the blonde. She starts a slow tune; the notes are light and non-threatening. It takes only moments as Quinn feels her eyes close, remembering when she wrote it. She recalls feeling hopeful about the future and the prospect of communication with the singer, however remote. The thought brings an almost innocent grin to her face.

The Latina continues, feeling her emotions rise with the chorus, and fall with the fragile verses. Not for the first time, she's in awe of her friend. It's true what they say, music _can_ inspire however so few writers have the ability to infuse any real emotion with a song. There a whole lot of stuff that come through the radio and TV, most of it is unhelpful to the confused individual, only romanticizing one-night stands and an endless stream of parties. In the end, it shocks the Latina, because she can see it, if they can just get Quinn's message out, it could reach into the heart of each struggling spouse, boyfriend or girlfriend. Maybe they could save just one couple from the brink; maybe they could heal some cracks with a compassionate chorus and beautiful combination of notes. It's the best thing they can strive for.

That afternoon as Santana plays Quinn deepest thoughts out on a grand piano and in the process they meet a kindred spirit. The man knocks respectfully before walking in. Santana gasps in surprise and even Quinn is unsure of herself. His hair is professionally made messy, matching perfectly to his chiseled looks. But the one thing that the photo-shoots and magazine articles didn't capture was the bright energy in his eyes. It causes the girls to smile because for all the celebrity airs, he reacts with the same excitement and happiness at the prospect of something _good_. His expression is honest as he asks to be the one to bring one of their songs to life. He explains that when he first heard the demo, it reminded him of a relationship he once had, in a small forgotten town that he had toured to during his early years. He tells them that the lyrics are the confession that he never had the chance to give.

The girls agree. And despite Quinn's frowns, Santana negotiates a royalty fee, stating that nothing came for free. The Latina didn't care what her friend did with the money but no job is ever done without payment. It would raise more questions if it did. Two months later, the song is released in the man's newest album. It is an instant anthem for the broken hearted, the lonely and the hopefuls. Somehow, this one song manages to make an impact on the world. And it could be how the artist actually seems to _believe_ when he sings the lyrics or it could be similarities to everyone's own experiences, but it is enough to make people stop and close their eyes to really _listen_ for three minutes and twenty nine seconds.

/

After that, it becomes easier.

Artists from all around, come for the chance to put one of their experiences into music. Quinn is amazed, managing to form connections with other people who at one point, seemed to be going through a similar transition or emotion. Love must really be universal. Maybe their parents, the adults had gotten _that one_ thing right.

So, for each person that comes through the door, the backgrounds and settings of their stories may be different but there's something in their expression when they talk about their _one_ person. Their smile is untainted as they recall the little things, like the location of a make out spot behind the school oval or the smell of an old college sweatshirt. And, for a moment, they are under the protection of their memories.

/

With Santana's help, Quinn writes under a different name, "Charlie."

As time passes, there are moments when the façade is hard to keep up, from Brittany, from Rachel and from the curious and anxious media. It begins to place pressure on their interactions and Quinn almost moves back to Lima. However, that night she gets a call from the Latina. Santana tells her the secret that she's been keeping all this time, the one fact that might keep the pianist close. She tells the blonde that in the rare moments where the singer is truthful about feelings, Rachel still sleeps in Quinn's old letterman jacket. The brunette _still_ cries in her sleep, staying on the left side, with a hand reaching out for somebody…_but not just_ _anybody…_

However, the most important thing is that Rachel has bought every single song Quinn has written. And even without any knowledge of who was behind the studio doors, they're still her favourite. They're still what she _needs_ to hear, removing the guilt and communicating a seamless combination of love and sadness.

When Quinn hears all of this, there's silence on the line, followed by unsteady breathing and quiet crying. Santana just closes her eyes hoping that she's done the right thing as she keeps her friend company for the rest of the night. She holds the phone in a strong grip, hating that the truth seems hurt just as much as a lie.

/

A movie, an album and several acclaimed songs later; the girls are given the chance to change _everything_. It has been eight years since high school and they are successful, independent and _grown up_. Rachel has reached a point where she is comfortable with her busy life. She's sees her career as the goals she's always dreamed about, instead of the thing that managed separate her from Quinn. So, she'll walk confidently to the stage and flashing cameras with the steady knowledge that, it _is enough_ to keep her warm at night. As a result, Rachel finally _understands_ the pianist's actions despite her leftover anger about the past.

Quinn, on the other hand, reaches some sort of equilibrium. She continues to write songs for the singer, dutifully following the news. But, unlike before, she is also actively trying to forge ahead and move along.

There are days when Quinn succeeds, summoning the courage to exchange a shy smile with the interested stranger. Quinn finally stops running away from her suitors, in the fear that her heart might forget about Rachel Berry …because, that'll never happen. Instead, the brunette is now simply a reminder of what _could_ be, if Quinn can just trust and let go, even if it is only in the dark and between the sheets…

So, it might not be love to start with, but it is the first step because during those awkward dinner dates and nighttime encounters, the singer moves to the background of her mind for a little while. The blonde is finally _dealing with her issues_. And, as her songs continue to make it to the mainstream, there's now only a brief moment where she wonders if Rachel is listening…

/

So this summer, when Rachel finishes her first movie and Quinn decides to set some roots in the city, their lives cross for the first time in eight years. The production company has paired the singer and her co-star up for a promotional tour. The world is excited because this is Rachel Berry's debut to the big screen and they wonder why? Why this movie?

The script paints the picture of a tragic love story. It is set during the wartime, when fighting for your country was the only thing that mattered, regardless of who you were. The main characters are childhood sweethearts: she – a singer and he – a writer. Conscription by the army steals them from each other. But 3 years later, he returns to their small town, shell-shocked and angry at everything. Nobody knows how to deal with the situation, not the local pastor, the doctors or the girl herself. So she just sits with him and she sings. She sings every song he ever wrote, on every stage, because in the moments where he hears her voice there's a smile on his face and everyone swears that he's who he used to be. Somehow through the course of the story they try to find a relationship and learn to make new connections…

In the end, Santana thinks that it is slightly ridiculous. Rachel might as well reveal all her cards because her whole body of work screams Quinn. And now? There's no chance to stop it. The movie producers have an agreement with the record label and _Charlie_ is signed on to write the title song for the trailer. The girls finally get their second chances and the Latina only wonders if they'll know what to do with it.

/

_Current day…_

"Finally Santana, it's about time. I've been trying to get you to contact Charlie in regards to writing me a song for a long time. You know how much I love his music!"

The singer states as she all but hurries to the recording room. Her smile is bright and unguarded, elated by the chance to meet the one that could weave the sweetest assurances into a song. She so desperately wants to thank this person for her lullabies because maybe they had the knowledge: the cure to heartache. Maybe this person could direct her to the road to happily ever after… And, if they are both just a couple of lost souls…_maybe they could help each other find their way back. _

"Rache – "

Santana begins tiredly as she trails behind, trying to balance her coffee and the stack of contracts tied to this latest endeavor. The Latina has bags under her eyes and she tries unsuccessfully to get the singer's attention.

"Yes, yes I know you already told me. He's in very high demand and didn't have the time to help with my album. But, I'm can't wait to meet him now. What do you thin –"

"Rachel."

This time Santana manages to get the name out, however it isn't heard at all. Rachel just continues, lost in a strange combination of passions: for the music and for the rare individual behind everything. Santana lets out a breath as she watches the happy gestures of the brunette. Despite all the events and likelihoods stacked against them, the Latina thinks that it _should _mean something that the after all this time, the girls have only ever gotten this _excited _over each other. So what if this is a long shot? The world loves an underdog. Audiences enjoy rooting for the protagonist who loves so intensely that he or she will walk over broken glass. So wheneverything else has lost its magic and Hollywood has really run out of ideas, Santana hopes that people will place their faith in Rachel and Quinn's relationship because sometimes even a wisp of smoke is still enough to ignite a fire.

" – Do you think that he's the tall tortured artist? Or more like the sensitive tough guy type? I don't know and I don't care. This is going to be great."

"Berry!"

"What, Santana? What is it?"

At the third interruption, the singer finally pauses for her friend. She notices the exasperation in the Latina's face and decides to control her enthusiasm. Rachel can't fathom why Santana looks so worn and worried. The singer gets a small sense of foreboding.

"Ok. First of all he is a _she. _And, could you try and tone down the crazy. I have barely had my first cup of coffee. Nobody should be this perky in the morning…"

Santana mutters as she tries to rub the tension from her face. She won't be hard on Rachel because the next events will do that for her. The Latina knows that she'll be partly to blame. Maybe it wasn't right to hide Quinn from the brunette but Santana has responsibilities to _two_ people and high school excuses of best friends and pettiness no longer applies. She just has to believe that the girls have grown into their feelings enough that the big problems fall away and the little things matter more. Hopefully, Quinn's sarcastic eye roll still causes the singer to chuckle. _Hopefully_, Rachel's warm gaze still brings about the pianist's blush. Santana hold her breath as the singer burst through the studio doors.

"Hello Charlie, I'm Rachel Berr – _Quinn?_"

It isn't quite like slow motion as the name dies on her lips. Instead, all Rachel can do is try and rewind the scene in her mind, looking for all the hints that could lead her here. She remembers seeing the blonde hair of a girl settled in front of the grand piano as she entered: a far too familiar picture. Her blood rushes through her veins and she attempts to control her breathing. _No_… is the only word that her mind repeats over and over as a tear slides down her cheek.

The singer tries her best to tell herself that she's not sad. That, her heart isn't breaking all over again. And that, this moment doesn't feel like the thing that she's been searching for. Rachel Berry _tries_ as her eyes capture a painfully lovely image of Quinn Fabray as the blonde turns around.

_The pianist has long hair again_. She's wearing a simple white sundress with a light blue cardigan. Her fidgety hands say that she's nervous. And just like that, she's still the prettiest girl Rachel has ever met. A husky greeting leaves her lips…

"Hi Rachel."

For some reason, it feels like a lifeline.

/

Hope to hear your thoughts =D


	25. Chapter 25 So This is Progress

Chapter 25 – So this is Progress

Hi guys! Here's the new chapter. It is another unbelievably long one, but the ending is hopefully what you guys deserve. There's only probably a couple of chapters left to this saga of mine, so you guys won't have to deal with the long waits anymore. I'm thankful that you guys love the characters enough to pick sides. It's actually a pretty even split so maybe I did something right eh? In response some questions, I thought 8 years was the right time for college and for Rachel to get to this point in her career.

Anyways review response time:

_T _– Haha sorry about that. It is just the way I'm used to writing. Will work on it though.

_Phoebex13_ – I advise not starting this chapter at night. It is long and you might not get to sleep! I look forward to your responses. I think that everyone should have a Santana or Tyler in their lives. Thanks about that compliment about my version of Quinn (grrrr I still own nothing =) anyways, her character is never really explored on the show so it just kind of seemed right in my head.

_Sekehowlka _– Rachel is just a special, special child isn't she? I think I just wanted to keep her in character and still let her grow a bit. Enjoyed reading your thoughts! Thanks.

_Faithx5452 _– Garsh. Can't wipe the grin of my face. Highest compliment any author can have. Thanks so much. If I ever get the time I might want to start a story that focuses on Brittana and the early Quinn and Santana friendship that I often allude to in this story. Gah, so many ideas.

Jock –Those are some of my favourite lines as well, they seemed to fit. Thanks! =)

Guy - I think that Lima was good for Quinn's growth, because she wasn't without motivation, skill or money; but her perspective had changed. Like she wasn't throwing everything away, she was building herself up. At that point, the scattered version of herself after college found Lima to be what she couldn't appreciate before? Anyways I'm rambling. Look forward to your thoughts on this chapter though! Thanks again.

Feintidea – You're too kind. Please don't cry, smile because I promise this chapter ends happy. Unfortunately I can't take credit for the lyrics but I have a good itunes library and this story is actually built around it =)

EAnIL – Read on a computer screen. This will be better =)

Conventgirlvampire – My pretty pretty words huh? Thanks so much =) I think that I am just too much of a romantic but until something happens otherwise that's the way I'll stay. I'm glad that this story really means something to you.

S8105 – Wifey! Emotionless robot? Psh no such thing, the right person always breaks us out of it =) Though I'm the same, I can only show emotions in writing according to my friends. This one is to bring out the smiles. I hope you like the end of this chapter.

Thanks to everyone else who reviewed and feel free to jump to the story now! The song that the girls sing is a favourite: All this time by One Republic.

_Previously…_

"_Hi Rachel."_

_For some reason, it feels like a lifeline. _

Santana holds her breath as she stands still, waiting the silence out. Quinn's soft voice lingers in the air. And, Rachel's jaw closes. Her wide eyes betray just how much she isn't ready for this. Suddenly her clothes are too warm, too constricting and yet, she doesn't _want_ to walk away. It takes a while but she absorbs every little thing about the pianist, basking in the fact that she can _finally_ feel her heart try to beat its way out of her chest again. There's a familiar flutter in her stomach and the first words that slip out are honest and unfiltered.

"You look good..."

Quinn blushes.

She almost looks away till she realizes that she doesn't want to waste any second with the singer. Even the closing of an eyelid feels to long. So, she's courageous as she lets hazel meet brown. She thinks that Rachel's gaze is still every bit at exposing and powerful as it once was.

"Thank you. Rachel, I… how are you?"

There's a hesitance, a stutter and a pause to her speech. Santana rolls her eyes because Quinn has never had trouble with words but Rachel Berry seemed to have the unrelenting effect on her confidence. It's sweet…the notion that you can't lie or hide. However, it also leaves one defenseless and open to new wounds. So as the pianist plays with the hem of her cardigan, waiting for an answer, Rachel moves to the window that looks out to the street; not too close and not at all _far away_. It scares both of them that this is actually happening, after all these years. And maybe, the brunette can feel how hard this whole situation _must _be. Or maybe she still cares enough to want to spare the blonde the struggle of forcing the conversation. But perhaps the most likely is that Rachel has simply _missed_ Quinn Fabray's presence, and now even superficial exchanges mean so much more.

"I'm good, Quinn. Finally, got to the Broadway stage."

The singer absentmindedly gestures to the studio room. Her voice is slightly distant as she tries to shake the fact that all she wants is to hug the blonde. Quinn, on the other hand tries to be calm. She takes a seat on the piano stool, watching Rachel pace and move about. Quiet words slip out.

"I heard."

"You did?"

Rachel looks up surprised. Her voice goes that little higher at the end of the question and she hates that she can't disguise the hope and flattered tone that emerges. She barely notices when Quinn stands up, but she _does_ straighten when the blonde's breath tickles her neck. She thinks that she can almost feel the flutter of the blonde's sundress behind her as a raspy voice answers.

"Yeah. I have the soundtrack."

Rachel smiles softly to herself. It occurs to both girls that they should probably separate and move apart. And as Quinn's hands covers hers on the glossy piano top, it feels too intimate and they forget that Santana is still in the room.

"You sang beautifully."

The brunette turns around to face the blonde. She takes time to gauge the other girl's sincerity. There's a second when her eyes widen slightly and Quinn takes an embarrassed step back, because, Rachel finds something else. It is something that they both swear that they've forgotten: a flicker of sorts. So instead they ignore it and try to place it at the back of their minds. Rachel wanders to the other side of the room, letting freedom run her speech.

"You know none of this happened the way that I thought it would. Sometimes I still think that it all happened overnight."

Quinn tilts her head curiously. The singer tries not to chuckle at the familiar action. It's harder than it seems. Still, for the first time in years she gets to be herself and she realizes _one important thing_…that Quinn is still the one to make her feel safe. So as the blonde follows her, always two steps behind, Rachel shows how she's not the famous Broadway star. She explains the thoughts that got her here. And Quinn finds herself settling in for the long haul because she _wants _to listen. In her mind, she can almost paint her parts in the blanks.

Rachel speaks with awe, reverence and subdued sense of enthusiasm.

"One second I'm just boring Rachel Berry singing in her room and the next, my face is everywhere. Girls want me to sign their playbills. And the boys have my picture on their walls. It's hard to believe."

There's a pause. It's the first time they recognize just how much time has passed. Quinn can't help the break in her voice as she lets out a soft whisper. The statement is striking in its surety.

"I don't think you were ever boring."

The girls smile at the comment. It's almost like an inside joke, as they are each hit by a separate set of memories. Santana shakes her head in amusement as she leaves the room. At the very least they weren't going to kill each other.

Rachel is the first to look away. She was never really equipped to deal with such confrontations. _Quinn was_. In high school, the blonde could be firm, kind and cruel, all at the same time. She made sure that the singer was never weak. It meant something as a fellow New Direction member. It meant far more as a timid friend. But it meant _everything_ as someone that loved Rachel.

Slowly a tune comes to the singer's mind and she can't help but hum it out loud. Rachel has always believed music had the ability communicate what nobody could say. The trembling high notes are perfect, in showing the uncertainty that existed. It takes only another moment for Quinn to gasp. It is a song that Rachel shouldn't know. The sounds of the "You could be happy" fill the room.

Quinn thinks that she can forgive Santana and Brittany for showing the singer this song. It must be hard being in the middle. However maybe at the time, their friends realized that both of them needed the words. And in the midst of all this, the pianist can't help but think that Rachel sings it better…

_Is it to late to remind you how we were?_

_You made me happier than I'd been by far…_

As the music comes to an end, the singer is knelt in front of the seated blonde. She places a hand behind the back of Quinn's neck, leaning their foreheads together. It is the same position they had adopted when they first decided that their relationship wasn't something either wanted to walk away from.

So now, as they remember the past, they manage to feel _close_ and can't help the relieved laughter that escapes. Rachel looks into Quinn's eyes and she realizes that they're not who they used to be. This version of the blonde couldn't be mean, stripped down her bare emotions. Love. Guilt. Pain.

Whereas, the singer… she's matured by years in the spotlight. Rachel refuses to be petty; finally ready to acknowledge that Quinn won't slip away if she doesn't want her to. And with so little space in between them, she asks heartbreakingly.

"Quinn…Teach me to do this. Show me how to be _just_ your friend."

It is hard not to break down a cry because this _is a _chance, more than either had hoped for. _And while the interaction is not easy, the effort doesn't feel like a waste. _

"Is that really what you want?"

Quinn makes sure, because, Brittany _had_ been right all those years ago: no more giving up and no more running. They were going to help each other out of this emotional limbo.

"No. But I really can't handle anything else right now."

It's a start: _their second beginning._

/

"Hi guys sorry I'm late. You wouldn't believe the traffic!"

A loud voice interrupts as a tall man strides in. Santana is hot on his heels as she tries to stop him. She quickly mouths apologies to the two girls, who quickly break apart. Quinn raises an eyebrow at the hand thrust in front of her face.

"Hello, you must be Charlie. I'm Lewis Tanning. And can I just say you look much lovelier than the mysterious profile that the media has created for you."

The compliment is smooth, thrown into the sentence with little hesitance. Santana and Rachel can be heard groaning and muttering in the background as Quinn chuckles at the boy's confidence. His smile is a little crooked, as a charming dimple settles on one cheek. The pianist takes a quick onceover, coming to conclusion that he must be Rachel's co-star. And despite all the articles foregrounding his recklessness and partying attitude, Quinn shakes his hand wondering about the flash of recognition in his eyes as he glances back and forth between girls.

"Charlie, but you can call me Quinn. It's nice to meet you."

/

In the coming weeks, the girls have rehearsals and writing sessions. Finishing the song takes longer than it should because their passion for music causes them to become perfectionists.

So even if right now, they're still a little awkward and worried for the remains of their hearts, music is the medium that will always be right, _perfect_… and _theirs. _Somewhere in between choruses, bridges and verses, excuses and distractions exist so that they can dawdle, simply to prolong the time together.

Rachel starts to look forward to such moments, as the rest of her life seems to blur. She finds herself in a hurry to get to the studio and somehow sees the potential in taking chances again.

Likewise, Quinn's hands tremble and turn into jelly each time the singer sits near. However the blonde finds that it is easier to forgive the loss of control in exchange for the singer's occasional touch and candid comments. A drawn out lecture about the finer points of Broadway training might just one of the few things that the pianist lives to hear about…

Together, Santana and Lewis watch the scenes. The Latina can't help but smile as the tension dissipates from her shoulders. The girls are in the same room again. Rachel has a light in her eyes that shines brighter when she's talking to Quinn. She even laughs so much that there's a slight tightening in her facial muscles from their overuse. Though, it doesn't matter at all because seconds later, the beautiful sound willingly comes again. Quinn appears serene in everyone's eyes, as she stops worrying about the world. Instead, she simply reacts to the singer, letting her feelings seep through her words and eye contact. She learns to enjoy being around Rachel _in the moment_. And Santana thinks that this is how it always should have been.

Lewis, on the other hand, seems quietly shocked. His brow slightly furrowed as the gears work in his mind. In due time, he'll ask Santana.

"So…she's Quinn Fabray, huh?"

-Flashback- _Drama Class Julliard - First day_

It's loud in the classroom. There's that normal level of rowdiness that exists on the first day of school as students try furiously to make some last minute friends, _if only so that they didn't have to weather the term alone._ Rachel knows that it is a sarcastic view to take, but since that fateful day in Lima she's found it hard to be anything else. Despite her promises to 'be the fun Rachy' to Brittany, the singer just sits in the corner seat, _in the back row_. She finds herself people watching until she remembers that that's what _Quinn_ liked to do. It was something the blonde was so good at.

So Rachel is grateful when her teacher strides into the room and interrupts her thoughts with a strict and firm tone.

"People! To your seats please."

The woman is conservatively dressed in a loose button up shirt and dress pants. The only indicators of an artistic or rebellious streak are the colourful beaded bracelets and small tattoo on the inside of her wrist. Such an inherent contradiction is the first interesting thing that pierces through Rachel's heartbroken haze in a while. And so, she sits up in her chair thinking that she might actually learn something. She tries hard to ignore the fact that her teacher happens to have a similar shade of blonde hair to Quinn.

"Ok, I'm not going to go through some stupid icebreaker activity just so you children can be on your way to fornicating with each other. Let's just start this class, yeah?"

The response is a chorus of semi-frightened yes responses as everyone looks to each other, not knowing what to make of the bluntness of their teacher. The girls quickly shake it off and pull out their pens and notebooks, their eagerness shining through. Watching, Rachel almost smiles, thinking that once upon a time she would have felt right at home in that mass with such single minded focus. The boys, however, take a little longer to swallow the first sexual remark that pops into their mind upon seeing an attractive individual. Still in the end, the woman is given her due respect.

"Good. My name is Katrina Lawson. Today, we're just going to talk. I'd like to get to know what I'm dealing with when it comes to you lot. So, I'll pose an interesting question, was Shakespeare a romantic?"

Whispers erupt and there seems to be a general consensus for 'yes' however no one speaks out. Katrina smirks, thinking that she really shouldn't be surprised. The students seemed to be opinioned but self-conscious, unwilling to volunteer their thoughts to be dissected by the public. Well that attitude wouldn't last. She would drill it out of them in a matter of weeks because their ability to express themselves was their _only_ link to the audience. The stage was about honesty and a willingness to delve deeper into a character's psyche, thus bringing the script to life. So she tries again.

"How about this, _why _do we think that Shakespeare was a romantic?"

There's a silence, as most ponder the question. Rachel looks around, finding it surprising that no one really has an answer. For a moment, her mind travels back. Rachel recalls sitting in Quinn's room, relaxing one Sunday. The pianist was reading an old copy of Anthony & Cleopatra for the third time. And the singer had been perplexed, asking why the blonde would do so when she could recite a few of the lines already. That afternoon, Rachel learned more about her girlfriend as Quinn explained the storyline with such a deep reverence for how a couple of flawed characters _could fall so perfectly together_. Marc Anthony was arrogant. Cleopatra was selfish. Shakespeare somehow managed to make them indispensible to each other's happiness.

A voice is heard above the crowd.

"Because of the way he describes love in his plays."

And it isn't until Katrina looks at her, that Rachel realizes that she had accidentally said something. A scoff sounds from somebody in the front. However for what it was worth, Katrina, herself, is welcoming. She respects anyone who displays enough confidence to say something. And she can't help but be curious about the thickness in the young brunette's tone and the almost tragic quality in her eyes.

"Go on, explain what you mean."

Rachel pauses for a moment. Her eyes dart around as she realizes that all eyes are on her. It occurs to her that she hasn't really thought this through. But as she closes her eyes for a second and hears Quinn's patient voice filter from her memories she feels stronger in her convictions.

"I think that…that anyone who portrays love in all of its colours as something so basic and undeniable _has to be a romantic_. In all of his works, there are issues such as familial obligations, social standing and civil war but he manages to elevate the relationship of the two leads as something that is almost transcendent. And though the love written about isn't _clean cut_, laden with lust, trickery and despair, it becomes something that the audience wants and yearns for."

When Rachel is finished, she has to take a deep breath, She surprises herself by getting carried away in the passion of it all; the burst of energy that comes from pushing for something that she believed in. And it was true, wasn't it? She could feel the familiar combination of happiness and pain as a picture of a certain blonde fades in and out of her mind. Rachel isn't really sure what is going on with herself. Walking to class today she wasn't even sure that Julliard was something she wanted anymore. But here, today in the classroom, she's reminded about herself. How a younger Rachel would snatch the toy microphone from her daddy's hand to belt out a Streisand song. So, when she has to explain _love_ and Shakespeare, something that _Quinn_ _taught her, _she has a moment of lucidity. And as her classmates turn and nod their heads in awe or agreement, _Rachel doesn't feel out of place_.

These thoughts are interrupted by the much louder scoff from that same place at the front. However this time, as everyone turns to glare or take notice, Rachel actually gets to see the boy making the noise through the mess of bodies. He's tall. Good for him. He's got dark brown hair quite like hers and seems to come from some mixed descent. She wonders if his good looks are wasted on him, as his facial features remain angry, bored and disillusioned. Katrina seems to hesitate. Her gaze flickers to the boy before a sense of resignation crosses her face. She rubs her temples in a tried manner like she's been through this all before.

"Right, ladies and gentlemen I'd like you to meet my TA, Lewis Tanning. Now, he's a bit of a pessimist about all things, but let's ask him what he means…"

There's an unmistakable challenge to her tone. However, Lewis brushes it aside, turning around instead to face Rachel in an exaggerated and indulgent fashion. The singer has to resist the urge to roll her eyes because she not quite sure if she's irritated by his rudeness or amused by his cockiness. Still, the chance to stand up for herself and engage in a bit of debate calls to her bitter angry side and this is the most invested she's been in a while.

"While I respect Miss Whatever-her-name-is opinions on this grand issue. I think she's wrong and a little naïve, don't you think?"

Rachel's jaw clenches at the slight mocking tone but she won't show it. She has been through years with bullies far more talented and far more hurtful. _He_ doesn't scare her. Noticing the fierceness in her gaze, Lewis releases a chuckle as he relaxes a little. It had begun as a simple disagreement, but with the progression of the conversation he can see it. Rachel believes so strongly because her faith lies with the _person and not the concept_. He just questions how long it will take for experiences to break her out of that hopeful existence.

"Look what I'm saying is that if you really take some time and think about it, Shakespeare was a wolf in sheep's clothing. I mean he wrote plays, supported by a patron right? Queen Elizabeth and King James, just to name a few. So that means that he had an audience to cater for. Maybe, stories about star crossed lovers and their grand gestures just _sold_ better. If we look at the almost extremist way he describes relationships, it doesn't really seem realistic or even honest. He just seems like he is making sardonic remark about love, an emotion that people hold so highly, but _in his stories_ rarely, if ever, is enough to make things work."

There's a gasp as people wait with anticipation. They wonder if the building tension will evolve into an argument or something more. Rachel looks to the teacher, wondering if Katrina would like to step in and redirect the class. However, the woman only seems sad as she glances at her TA. She's not going to try and change Lewis' mind. There's a familiarity mixed in with something else as Katrina looses some of the vigour she started the class with. It takes a minute for her professional mask to return.

It is inexplicable but _that_ change, even if Rachel doesn't quite understand the motives behind it, hurts more than it should. It makes the singer want to take up arms and fight the boy's disheartening words. Love doesn't need a champion or a savior. It is a concept that would probably persevere without Rachel Berry, _but sometimes_, having help doesn't hurt.

"You're right, Lewis. Shakespeare wasn't realistic. Love that causes rifts in nations and delirium in the individual doesn't often translate to everyday life. But that wasn't really his point was it?"

Rachel asks pointedly. Lewis raises his eyebrow. He appears not to care for her responses but there's just the smallest change in his posture that suggests that he is hanging on her every word. There's the smallest uncertainty that flashes across his face that makes pleas to Rachel to change his mind because he desperately _wants_ to see it from her point of view. His experiences thus far has just taught him not to.

Rachel speaks gently.

"Maybe Shakespeare was simply trying to write about what _could_ happen instead of what _is_. Because when you plant an idea or a possibility into somebody's mind, it can lead to action. So even if some of his stories have tragic endings, there's no doubt that Romeo and Juliet or Twelfth Night probably inspired a lot of people's dreams of happily ever after."

After that, there's just quiet, as the two seem to stare at each other. With their anger and frustration draining away, there's just stubbornness and blind determination causing them to hold steadfast to their opinions. They recognize the broken in each other's eyes. Softly, Rachel might ask in a pained voice.

"Why don't you believe in love?"

Lewis might shrug despondently before meeting her gaze. He returns with a question of his own.

"_Why do you?"_

He seems to expect her to back down. That would be the smart move, right? Not to air your past in front of classmates that you've never met. They might mock. They might laugh. They _would probably _think that you were a little too naïve for your own good... However Rachel is different. She doesn't really mind the whole world knowing. Because, after all the high school achievements and friends, the one thing that still matters most is that fact that she managed to find somebody worth caring for _over everything else_. Quinn was complex, strong willed and most times _aggravating_ in her sense of right and wrong. However, Rachel felt safe with her. When her college dreams were threatened and her self-esteem troubled, she felt grounded. Like if she made a mistake, she wouldn't be alone. There would be someone to walk the failures with her, kissing her and holding her hand with a supportive smile.

It's not that hard to comprehend and almost impossible to deny. So without a care, she answers questioning gaze of the class.

"Because I met _her_."

For a moment, there's nothing and then the chatter begins. Still, the singer is deaf to it all she fiddles with an old Polaroid shot. Lewis is quiet and Katrina _finally_ realizes that she's the authority in the classroom. It's funny because even she managed to get lost in the truthfulness of Rachel's words. She thinks from the singer's tone, she can almost imagine the person deserving of it. Though, she won't have much time to dwell, before calling the class to order. With a few sharp sentences, the content of the lesson is directed to something less controversial. However, three people remain changed.

Lewis – because he's angry. The boy is absolutely furious that the freshman had hit the nail on the head. She managed to put a name to his grief: about meeting _the right person_.

Katrina – because her hands are trembling slightly. She is overcome with concern and worry as the arrival of her newest student threatens to break the fragile peace, bringing people's emotions to the surface.

Rachel – because it is only after voicing her thoughts that she realizes that it will take a while before she can learn how to function without Quinn. It's a painful inevitability and she wonders if she'll see the world in the same way by the end. She'd hate it if she became a cynic.

After class, as Rachel waits on the steps of the performing arts studio for Brittany to finish her day, her thoughts are interrupted by a voice.

"So who was she?"

The singer looks up to the curious gaze of the boy who challenged her all throughout the lesson. He stands proud, however there are flickers in his eyes that grudgingly say that he's sorry. It communicates a softness about him beneath all the bravado, and Rachel is reminded briefly of Puck. But she tries not to think about it, because after leaving Lima she's spoken less to her fellow New Directions members. She remembers Brittany sympathetic gaze when she refused Mercedes's phone call, citing that it just brought back to many memories. She does a lot of things without thinking these days, operating in an inconsolable haze. The name slips out without her knowledge

"Quinn."

"That's it? After all that daring you showed in class, you're only going to give me one word?"

Lewis asks with surprise. He can't seem to match the fierce girl he had seen in class with the despondent one before him. The energy and purpose had been powering her attitude before seemed long gone now. And, he finds that he recognizes the state she's in, with her deadened eyes and slouched posture. How, no matter how hunched her shoulders are, it doesn't feel like its enough to hide and protect her from the world. Her feelings are like a crushing weight. It's what the brokenhearted look like. It's what _he_, in the privacy of his college room, _still_ looks like. So in a moment of empathy he'll give her some advice.

"You know, whoever she is, she probably doesn't deserve your dedication like that. All people disappoint. Once you figure that out, it won't hurt anymore."

There's a strange sense of kindness to his speech. And when Rachel looks up, there's nothing but pity as they both recognize the lies in his words.

It's later in the year, during the semester break, when Rachel wonders into the performing arts building hoping to get a little extra practice. By now, she'd started to become self-sufficient again. Brittany being pleasantly surprised coming home to the singer slaving over the stove and making a warm meal. The dancer had tears in her eyes, grateful for the improvement. While she had gotten used to preparing food and almost force-feeding Rachel when the singer was in one of her catatonic moods, it always made her sad each time.

Rachel wasn't by all means recovered but she had started to realize that her behaviour was affecting Brittany more than the effervescent girl would ever admit. So she resolved to try harder, to be _better_. And she was succeeding somewhat. Even though the gaping hole remained in her chest, the nights in which Brittany had to come into her room and rock her to sleep was becoming less and less.

She finds herself humming an old show tune, till the voices of two people fighting catch her attention. It was coming from the ballet studio and Rachel is frozen in her spot. Not because, she had issues against prying or anything like that, but the tone of the voices cause her memories to flood back. There's desperate broken quality to the girl as she asks the boy to walk away from their relationship _and her_. And there's a defiant cracking hoarseness to the boy as he refuses, trying to convince her of any other way out. He tires to remind her of what's of stake. Rachel's heart rate picks up and her breathing quickens as the voices become louder and begin to overwhelm her fragile control. In her mind, she keeps going back to that night in Lima when hope was absent.

Seeing through the crack in the door, the singer make out two figures but not their faces. The female is trying to move away, as dark tears from messed up mascara stream down her face. Her blonde hair is in complete disarray. Rachel can only imagine how many times the girl has tugged and wrung at it in an effort to establish some sense of self during this turbulent discussion. The guy has his head in his hands and in his disheveled suit; he's the very picture of a man on his knees. But as the girl takes a few steps away, there's something in the air and they share a look of pain and resignation. And like all other couples, everything is understood. _I love you. This is it, I'm sorry. _So the girl strides back to the boy. She has a hard grip on his hand, as her other comes around his neck. They pull their bodies against each other's, feeling every shudder before they collapse.

Eventually their last moment is played out and without looking back the girl starts for the door. She doesn't really see anything, not the time on the clock or Rachel by the drinking fountain as she hurries away. The singer isn't all that shocked when she realizes that the girl is Katrina Lawson, her teacher: the person who always seemed too young to be a faculty member and too harsh to be without baggage. In due time, the boy comes out. He's had a little more time to pull himself together and manages a brief glance at his surroundings. It's Lewis and Rachel can't help but take in a breath of surprise. In his suit, he looks older than she's ever seen him. And, Rachel knows that he had just lost far more than a girl…

It's quiet, as their eyes meet in the empty hallway. Slowly, they both come to realize something. That, no matter what you believed or how hard you resist, _some_ people leave indelible marks on your heart. And, for a lack of a better reason, it is probably because you loved them more than your desire to remain unhurt.

-End Flashback-

A couple of months down the line; Rachel and Lewis actually became good friends, united by their common ground. In time, he tells Rachel about Katrina.

Lewis explained about how their families were from the wealthier part of New York City, no stranger to high rises and expensive boarding schools. They were 10 years apart. Katrina had been his babysitter and confidant: a capable surrogate big sister. And when his parents fought, which was practically every second night, she would let him stay in her room in the Lawson's penthouse apartment. She would hold him as he fell asleep, whispering that it wouldn't always be like this. That, together they would get out from under their parent's name and influence, to make their own marks on the world. She loved the arts. And, he _loved her_, so he followed. Things were changing and _they_ were changing. It might've been during the lunch breaks in which she would break into his prestigious high school just to tell him about her day or it could've been the lonely thanksgivings when they refused to go home. But, they fell forcefully together, ignoring the warnings and the reality of their situation.

Lewis spent a lot of years theorizing about the downfall of his longest relationship. With excuses plenty, there was none so honest as the fact that neither he nor Katrina had enough trust in each other's ever changing personalities to make it work. She was always too busy, almost single minded in her need to be taken seriously. She was less and less the girl he knew. Whereas he? He couldn't empathize, in some respects still too young to fathom anything beyond his teenage world. He was always angry and lost, no longer the confident boy who had her concerns at heart. In their last moments, they could read the tiredness in each other's eyes _and giving up seemed healthier_.

Watching Quinn and Rachel in front of him now, Lewis realizes how wrong he was with his past comments about the unknown ex-girlfriend in Rachel's life. Their relationship was so much unlike his and Katrina's. There was no underlying sense of foreboding, tension and blame.

The girls' interactions were tentative yet _welcomed_ by both. Rachel was willing to forget. And Quinn was willing to let go of her pride and ask for forgiveness.

And he supposed that the most important difference with them was that, neither girl ever _lost faith in the person_. There were probably times where they thought that love was too hard, too complicated and not at all worth the trouble of looking. But, it didn't really matter. Because, while they might have shut everyone else out or become serial daters, they had a strange sort of confidence in each other's character. There was a belief that Rachel would never become cruel and Quinn would never become flighty.

Of course, Rachel had no illusions. She's knows that Quinn is not the same person. However the amazing thing about it all, was that, come another one or ten years, she's sure that she would still be able to find the unique quirk or use of sarcasm that could make her fall in love with Quinn all over again. It's the one thing that will _remain a little too easy._

Lewis smiles to himself. He's happy for Rachel as he notes the mischievous glint in her eye as she changes one of Quinn's melodies. It reassures him how, the pianist is not mad; she's laughing as she plays along and gives Rachel free reign. There's a feeling that she'll do whatever she can to incorporate the singer into her process, as they delight in being in the same space.

"She's…not what I expected."

Lewis manages to utter. His breath catches when the sunlight hits Quinn's lightly coloured hair as she moves in sync with the musical keys of the piano. She really is quite pretty. He's not immune to her charms and he doubts anybody really is. However, that probably doesn't register to her, not with the way she continues to glance at Rachel; humbled, adoring and reverent. Santana does nothing but snicker beside him.

"Don't even let your little boy brain go there."

The instruction is said bluntly, inviting no option to question. Lewis chuckles; unlike Rachel he's always enjoyed Santana's tough as nails attitude. Honesty was so refreshing in a world of euphemisms and the politically correct. And, for a brief interval, they just laugh at the singer's scrunched up faces as Quinn plays an impromptu and comedic rendition of the singer's first single of her newest album.

The piano cover is overly dramatic with pauses tailored specifically for Rachel's scandalized gasp and groans. It's funny because Quinn isn't actually mocking and Rachel isn't actually mad. Instead, there's just a sense of playful mischief in their eyes as the singer makes a grasp for Quinn's hands and a wrestle ensues.

Santana clears her throat, watching her friends find themselves again.

"You know, in high school, everyone took bets about how long they would last. Britts was convinced that they'd end up making babies and getting hitched. I was a bit skeptical. I mean little miss diva and perpetually confused Quinn? How did that even work?"

There is incredulity in her tone as she speaks, her eyes focused on the pair in front of her.

"Ever heard of the idea that opposites attract?"

Lewis offers. Santana sighs before turning around to meet his gaze. There's a sense of certainty in her tone embedded in her quick and pointed responses.

"Sure and whoever came up with that probably had a _shitload to drink_ and woke up next to somebody they thought they hated… but chances are? They're a lot more similar than they've let on."

There's a natural break to the conversation as Lewis tries to discern the truth in her statement.

"That's a little harsh"

It's the only response that comes to mind though he's proud he manages anything at all. Talking to Santana required a quick mind, bravery and a level of sharp wit that he was still working on. It amuses him though, when he watches Rachel and Brittany take control of the Latina. He can only guess at the high school experiences that fostered such trust and willingness to bend. But for now, he simply watches as Santana shrugs, continuing with her thoughts.

"Not really…. At the beginning, I thought it was just about loosing out on the National's title. That maybe, it left Berry a little unstable and Q feeling like shit, _like we hadn't accomplished anything_. So, they ended going at the option that made the _least_ sense."

Santana wears a nostalgic smile as she lets out a scoff. She had been so off base back then, refusing to see what Brittany already knew. Lewis rubs his jaw absentmindedly before asking.

"Was glee club really that big?"

There's a moment where the question catches the Latina off-guard. It had been a long time since she had explain or defend the activity. She runs her hand through her hair, taking the time to think of a proper response. Mr. Schue must have done something right in his time mentoring the group, because Santana refuses to let New Directions to be misunderstood. Eventually, she finds the words.

"It was to us, because you got to pretend that your social group didn't matter. In high school, _that_, alone, seemed like a revolutionary concept."

She pauses, looking into the distance. A wistful smirk appears on her face as she remembers trying to get Mr. Schue into a 12-step program for his addiction to vests and competing with Mercedes for the title of having the most attitude. The time spent in the choir room was _fun._

"…And I guess it was. I mean, it gave the cheerleaders the chance to apologize to the traumatized geek and footballers the opportunity to date the stuttering wallflower."

Lewis grins. He thinks that he's never seen Santana so respectful of anything before.

"That sounds nice."

The comment was meant to be kind but when spoken out loud, seemed lacking. Lewis tries not to cringe. All it does is elicit a tired eye roll from the Santana, who has grown up enough to ignore the fumble.

"I think that the moment that I thought that their relationship could actually work, was when they were arguing. I don't even remember what it was about… But you know _Rachel_…"

Santana leaves the statement hanging. They share a smile and Lewis nods. One of the reasons, why Rachel caught his eye to begin with was the passion in her arguments. She had an unwillingness to back down, even as she lost her footing or when evidence started to prove otherwise. And there was always a reason for her doggedness, it was never _just_ to antagonize.

"Well Q isn't that different. I mean she's just a little more genius with her wording. Most of the time, you would've lost the argument before you even started speaking… Q's the only other person I know, that hates losing as much as I do and Britts used to have to keep us back before it came to blows."

There's a warm quality when Santana speaks about Quinn. Her eyes actually soften and she seems calmer. It's nothing like the seemingly endless adoration and patience she gives to Brittany but it's still more emotion than she allocates to anyone else. Lewis wonders about the knowledge swimming in her head about Quinn. A lifetime of shared milestones: tryouts, first boyfriends and planning for prom. Best friends and all. Eventually he clears his throat.

"A Rachel versus Quinn battle huh? So why did that turn you into a believer?"

Santana released a sigh, trying to rub the stress away from her face. The last few days, hell, the last few years had been stressful. She and Quinn had hid their actions from Brittany and Rachel, thinking that all would be well. Oblivious co-existence was the apparent term. The girls would like to think that they've graduated from such immaturity, such _stupidity_, but as open as they've learnt to be? Sometimes they fight it because they aren't ready, because they don't know what to say and because they're scared. So now, when Rachel and Quinn are in the same room and it doesn't feel like the sky is falling, all Santana can think about is the moment where everyone _but_ herself, _thought that it might_. The memory sticks out in her mind as she holds Lewis's gaze.

"I realized that they could _actually _work because they were _angry_ that day, full on yelling. You could tell that Berry had already lost her mind and that Q was biting her tongue to keep from yelling. But, _it was a good thing; _they were actually trying to hash their problems out. It meant that they were invested enough to let their feelings out and try to fix things."

Santana notes how peaceful the girls had gotten. They'd had finally finished the almost childlike wrestling and now wore tired smiles as they caught their breaths. Rachel had her hand delicately placed on her chest as she tried to retain her composure. She's laughing still, and finds that her eyes won't move from Quinn. For a moment she opens her mouth, about to say something. And when the words don't come, she's met with an understanding gaze. Quinn smiles gently as she reaches out to pick the scrap of lint that had landed in Rachel's hair. She bites her bottom lip as the action brings back memories. They both wonder if they're trespassing the boundaries of friendship. However, as Rachel finds herself leaning into Quinn's touch, they make an exception. They _tell themselves that it is just this once. _

Santana returns her gaze to Lewis.

"It was more than they've ever done in the past. You see, before they got together, Berry used to do this thing with Finn where she'd manage to delude herself into thinking that everything was peachy keen and that she could talent talk her way out of anything. Whereas Q? Her method was to manipulate the hell out of the first guy who fell for her golden locks."

Lewis mouth opens slightly in surprise. He doesn't quite know what to make of Santana's tone. She speaks her comments as if they're simply facts. There's no judgment, just a quiet acceptance despite the obvious wrongful actions described by her words. Lewis finds himself nodding slowly. There are all those jokes about real friendship and being willing to help bury bodies but Lewis is just now realizing the real life equivalent. So he lets out a slow breath.

"I'm going to guess that they never tried that on each other."

Santana smiles warily.

"No…they didn't, but, after that? I put my money on those two."

It's funny; because Santana never quite realized the truth of her words till this conversation. In an effort to be supportive she had forced herself to be ok with the fact that the blonde seemed content to ignore Rachel, to live in pea sized Lima, Ohio. Santana had clamped down on her desire to berate Quinn's seeming chicken attitude. But despite it all, if you asked her what the endgame was, it'd be the same answer since high school: Rachel Berry and Quinn Fabray. A disbelieving laugh escapes. Because honestly, what if at 18 years you found somebody that you were _extremely attached to_. And while you aren't dumb or innocent enough to say that you love everything about that person, you are just all too willing to work through of the faults and errors. It doesn't really happen in real life. But, humor her this once and ask: _what if it did?_ And a future together was the only thing that you could imagine…

"So who actually won the bet?"

Lewis's voice is quiet but curious. Santana huffs.

"None of us."

"What?"

At Lewis's exclamation, Santana looks away. Her voice is thoughtful as she flips through the contracts in her folder.

"Half of us didn't think that high school would be the end for the two of them. And I guess if it _was_, the other just didn't want to believe it.

There's a lull in the conversation before Lewis's chuckles break the peace. There's warmth in his eyes as he speaks in a slightly teasing tone.

"What do you know, Santana Lopez, an optimist…"

The Latina rolls her eyes but small smile appears for a brief second.

"Shut up."

Lewis pretends to zip his mouth shut before standing up.

"Well time to get to work!"

The boy is met with a confused glare. However instead of being frightened, he simply grins.

"Come on, it is _clearly_ our job to get the lovebirds together again."

The exuberant comment causes Santana to groan, pinching the bridge of her nose. She ignores Lewis's excited planning as her gaze lands on Rachel and Quinn by the instruments. Sometime during her discussion with Lewis, the girls had given up pretenses of work and they're simply _talking to each other_. Rachel is gesturing to punctuate her words, almost unable to stay still in her enthusiasm. Quinn is seated cross-legged on the piano stool, the picture of content. Her back is not it's usual ramrod straight as it loosens slightly so that her arms lie comfortably in her lap. It's so natural, when her hand accidentally grazes the singer's knees as she laughs at a joke. The image is beautiful and when Santana directs her attention back to Lewis, she notices how the boy has a sharpie and a notepad, already jotting out various ideas and shenanigans to give the girls more of a chance. The first few lines talk of ridiculous ideas involving handcuffs and a locked room and the second half of the page doesn't fare much better. Santana looks up tiredly to the ceiling.

"I need to stop talking to Berry's friends."

Still, in the end she lets herself be dragged away. And as Lewis continues to come up with plans, Santana pulls out her phone. Her hand hovers of the green call button, feeling the stress fade from her shoulders as she lifts the device to her ear. She's glad for the chance to _finally _be honest.

"_Hi Britts? I need to talk to you, it's about Q…"_

The phone call is mostly quiet as Santana explains everything: how she had gotten the pianist to migrate to New York and how Quinn and Charlie were the same person. She apologizes for lying and keeping secrets, steeling herself to deal with the repercussions. So when she finishes talking there's a pause and it almost causes Santana to worry. But Brittany doesn't yell, break down or say things out of spite. She simply takes time to process her thoughts but before she does, the words are automatic and sincere as they leave her mouth. She still holds Santana's worries _first_.

"San, I'm not mad."

The Latina closes her eyes in relief. She doesn't hurry or demand anything. And soon enough, she'll hear a sigh on the other end and the tense period is over. Santana thinks that she can hear the smile in Brittany's tone when she asks if Rachel and Quinn are still as good together as they once were… She laughs after Santana mutters the words.

"_Like PB and jam."_

/

The song gets written and reluctantly the girls spend some time apart. They're thrust back into their previous lives where Rachel is dealing with her managers, record label and the paparazzi. Likewise, Quinn has to return to Lima to check the accounts of the café and visit her godson. It surprises the girls that just a few days together, only several hours in a studio can feel like _normal_. It feels like something that they'd miss.

/

"So, should I be expecting green eyed Berry babies anytime soon?"

Without looking up, Quinn puts down her folder and pen. She runs a nervous hand through her hair, letting out a slow breath. Santana stays in her spot, leaning on the doorjamb to the café's back room. Her arms are crossed, insistent in her expectation of an answer. Gone is her usual office attire and she's just wearing fitted jeans and a black button up shirt rolled up to the elbows. Her eyes are tired and it feels as if the clothes are a comment of her reason for being there. _In this moment_, she's a friend and not a business partner.

Quinn can hear it in Santana's voice: the rare tentativeness to the question. However, the first response that comes to mind is a reflexive fact learned during high school biology.

"Green eyes are recessive."

There's a pause and it takes her a second to process her own words. She has the grace to be embarrassed as her blush travels down her neck and her heart races that little bit faster. However, Quinn doesn't backtrack or try to take any of it back. She has learnt the impulsive, reckless moments are perhaps the most honest, before _thinking_ gets in the way and hopeful attitudes are returned to their cages. Santana rolls her eyes at the science speak. Sometimes she's still caught off-guard by the small comments that slip from the pianist's mouth, they're often not thought out, nonsensical and entirely _uncool_. Because, when Quinn is given room to change, she's witty without her biting sarcasm and she's original, so much more than people ever gave her credit for. The most important thing that remains is that she is still taken when Rachel's voice comes alive on the radio. Santana places a set of documents in front of her friend.

"Here, the papers for that loft downtown. It's a big place and it's all yours. If you're really going to stay New York, I have the pricing set, all you gotta do is sign it."

Quietly, Quinn reaches for the contracts. And when her hand makes contact, she can feel Santana's grip on the other side of the sheets. Quinn finally meets the Latina's gaze and they respect the gravity of the moment. The pianist clears her voice and whispers.

"Thanks."

"Sure."

The response is instant and easy. Santana looks to the side, shrugging the gratitude away. It always felt alienating when Quinn did this; inject more emotion than necessary. It reminds Santana of how they weren't built for this, but because of their experiences and the people that surround, _they try for different._ Occasionally, they're rewarded but most of the time they revert to their old habits, a grunt and careless wave of acknowledgement. This time, Quinn's fingers slip around the Latina's wrist, catching her in her turn away. The friends almost stare, until the words interrupt their thoughts.

"No really Santana. Thank you…for putting up with me, _for getting me through this_."

Santana swallows, making a slight nod. She tries not to make light of the situation because the times in which she's seen that look in Quinn's eyes can be named only on one hand. The first occurred when Santana had caught up to the blonde after Quinn had delivered her first slushee. Hazel eyes bored into hers, asking for some sort of guidance. The second time, was when she had forcefully told the pianist that no amount of dictates would say otherwise, they were going to UCLA together. And the last time, was right after Quinn orchestrated her transfer to NYU. Santana refused to see it at the time, but it was what she didn't know she needed.

So now, as that same look strikes a chord, Santana decides to direct the attention away, to the more important topic at hand. Her voice seems loud in the empty room.

"So, how did it feel to talk to Berry again?"

Quinn eyes are closed when she manages to speak.

"Frightening."

Santana raises her eyebrows, surprised by the admission. The pianist bites her bottom lip as she looks away, talking mostly to herself.

"She's changed."

"Well, what did you expect Q?"

"I don't know."

A silence descends. Santana watches Quinn's fingers, how they would twist, pull and push at each other, as their owner seems unable to come up with the eloquent answer she expects. Quinn's eyelids flutter with frustration and Santana jumps in. The Latina slides into the guest chair, trying not to frown at the creaking noise that comes about.

"I guess it doesn't really matter. But, the question is, if this version of Berry still gets your engine going."

And Quinn finds herself easily distracted by the memories of the past few days. There were times where she missed the world of black and white, where the right decision was practically set out. She didn't know why she expected her thoughts to be clear-cut. They never were with Rachel before and they certainly aren't now. She'll always feel a little more than she expects and worry a little less than should. Quinn tries to work through it as her mind lingers on the differences between then and now.

"Rachel, she's stronger now: better with her words… maybe even better than me."

Santana looks up at the concession. There was no self-deprecation in Quinn's comment, simply a small sense of pride for the singer that she doesn't know if she has the right to express. There's a sense of surrender, as Quinn smiles gently and finally meets the Latina's gaze.

"It's interesting, yesterday when we were talking_… it almost felt like she was the one taking care of me_."

The statement lingers and Santana finds herself giving Quinn a sympathetic smile. She imagines that getting to know Rachel _in the now_ is a constant war, as the pianist's mind clings to old memories whilst her heart unmistakably falls again for the current singer. It's not picking up where they left off but it isn't starting all over either. In their interactions, Rachel is grounded and social in a manner that she never was in high school. She can quip, banter and be strangely diplomatic. And when Quinn watches her interviews, the singer's ability to manage a crowd is obvious. There's a moment, when she's unsure about her place in Rachel's new life, not when they'd finally learned how to survive separately. But the panic _passes_, and they both adapt and depend on each other in a new way. They find that they still complement each other. _Rachel_ still leads the conversation with her enthusiastic passions, except now she's caught by surprise because Quinn emotions are voluntary and very much painted on the surface for the world to see. On the other hand, Quinn still holds onto her gallant acts and quietly composed etiquette, but Rachel finds that she understands more about the things that aren't always said out loud. _I love you. Please forgive me. _So maybe it is because they're older, but the anticipation of what happens next isn't enough to stop them from trying anymore.

"Don't screw it up this time."

Those are the only words said as Santana shakes her head resignedly, staring at the space outside of the office. A few people walk into the café: a grandmother, a policeman and a high school student. They all wear frowns and a hurt in their eyes that they can't seem to shake. And, in the end they're just hoping for someone to talk to.

Quinn follows her friend's gaze, recognizing the patrons with a sad smile. The seriousness of the scene is sobering, because they've both been there: unsure and broken.

"Well Q what are you waiting for? Go be their sponsor."

Quinn looks up to see Santana's reassuring smirk. The two give each other an imperceptible nod and she mutters softly as she stands up.

"Thanks"

/

The night of the song's debut performance is frantic, exhilarating and a mixture of emotions. The behind the scenes crew runs around with strange heavy equipment and clipboards with too many tasks to complete. There's a nervous energy abound as they worry whether they'll get the stadium set up in time. Quinn leans on a large speaker by the soundstage and not for the first time since seeing Rachel again, she feels out of place and a little redundant. In her wildest imagination she never thought that the performance world would be like this. Everything was fast-paced and it was _in the rush,_ that all the small elements caused everyone to come alive.

Santana was off to the side with a Bluetooth glued to her ear, ranting to the person on the line. She looks frustrated with one hand perched on her hip and the other pinching the bridge of her nose. It amuses Quinn, when her friend tries to take deep breaths to calm herself. The action never did work in the past but it always used to please Brittany and Rachel when the girls attempted to control their ire before they snapped. So now they find that when they're furious and wanting to throw something, they stop and _breathe._ And despite the stress of the surroundings tonight, Santana looks confident as she glares at the contracts in front of her and gestures wildly to the air.

On the actual stage is Brittany, who stops whatever complicated dance move she was doing to wave animatedly to the pianist. Quinn laughs and responds in kind. She remembers her first meeting with the dancer a few days ago, after Santana had broken the news about their adventures penning songs. It was a relief, not keeping secrets. Quinn finds that she missed her friend more than she expected. She's almost sad that she wasn't there for Brittany's changes, for when they met again in New York the person in front of her is matured but still so kind. There was a sparkle in Brittany's blue eyes that showed that the dancer seemed conscious of her own wisdom and above it all she knew when to wield it. During their dinner, Brittany had walked up to Quinn, with a grin that seemed too genuine to belong to any adult. And in their expensive background of _shiny_ glass pieces and intricately patterned ceramic plates, she had hugged Quinn tightly, lifting her slightly off her feet and twirling them around. Their full-bellied laughter and chatter had probably interrupted the other patrons but they paid no heed. Brittany wanted to know everything about Quinn's experiences in college and in Lima. She demands almost immediately to visit the pianist's café, insisting that the availability of ice cream and curly fries at the establishment was a must. Quinn finds that by the end of the night she had memorized all of the dancer's suggestions.

Brittany talks about learning dance at Julliard and being the youngest student to be offered a choreography position as a director of a music tour. She raves about how nice Beyonce is and how amazing it was to finally meet the person behind some of their glee covers done in High School. Quinn has fun learning the full single ladies dance after dinner. They take off their heels and move delightedly barefoot in the pianist's hotel room. By the end of the night, it's almost as if the time apart in college didn't happen. Santana comes in after her long day in the office, and they're the unholy trinity once more.

Quinn eventually turns away from her friend, letting Brittany continue her practice session. She can almost hear the dancer's patient tones as she corrects somebody's footwork or lift. And, in the midst of all the preparation and activity, Quinn finds herself alone with her thoughts. She wanders towards the piano that would later be moved to the main area. It's a pretty instrument: a black Yamaha grand piano. It is very much like the one in her bedroom; too much like the she taught Rachel on. There's a flood of memories as Quinn pushes down on a key. It has _perfect pitch_. The blonde smiles wistfully. She really should have known that Rachel checks everything thrice.

So she takes a seat on the stool, and observes. She wonders if she fits in a world of such bright lights, because when it comes to Rachel Berry, nothing is halfway. Quinn lets the chatter and intercom orders flow through her. It is nothing like the slow peace she's gotten used to in Lima. And suddenly there's a burst of extra noise. When Quinn looks up, she sees Rachel walk out of her dressing room. The singer is in a silk robe and her makeup and hair is only half done. With eye shadow only present on one side and uncontrolled dark curls falling over her eyes, she's confident with power emanating from her movements. Gorgeous and beautiful, are words that will never do the scene justice, and instead Quinn feels like she should stand or do _something. _After all, nobody simply sits still in the face of _extraordinary_.

Rachel is surrounded by a ring of personal assistants, studio representatives and people with mascara brushes, most of whom she manages to ignore. And maybe, not everything that is real has to be tangible, because the singer feels the urge to look up despite the 360-degree cries for her attention. When she does, warm hazel eyes bore into hers and for the first time in a while, she's breathless again despite her lung capacity. She can feel it, how pulses quicken and mouths suddenly feels dry. The atmosphere feels electric. Her lips part to say so. But, they're more than several meters away and her staff pulls her away to the next crisis and _the next task._

The last thing Quinn catches is Rachel's apologetic glance before she disappears from sight. It's all right tough. The pianist finds the break helpful to gather her thoughts. That's when she hears it, a thump in the back room. Curiosity draws her to the door and she finds a man with greying hairs and large brown frames on the floor. He has long multicolored computer cords wrapped around his hand and an exasperated expression on his face as he fiddles with the inputs of the speaker machinery.

"You're new."

The comment is thrown out without even glancing up. He has raised eyebrows and mischievous expression. Quinn finds herself smiling, as she straightens up from her position by the door to extend her hand.

"Charlie, well technically Quinn. It's nice to meet you."

For a moment, the man seems confused by the gesture. In the hustle and bustle of the entertainment business, so few people had the time to show manners. So he savors it, shaking the pianist's hand with a motion that is a little rusty.

"_Ah, the writer_. People around here call me Rick."

There's warmth in his actions that puts the pianist to ease. The way he ambles around despite his age, is impressive and something to be respected. He possesses a childlike zest unmatched by those younger then him. Quinn finds a seat on one of the boxes, watching his seemingly continuous work, of buttons and multiple wires. However, there's a brief moment where he slows down and ponder something.

"Uh wait. I misspoke. Miss Pierce actually calls me Grandpa Rick, and Miss Lopez calls me old-timer. Odd pair, those two..."

Quinn laughs at his comment, shaking her head in amusement. She's grateful for the two in her life, they seem to be a measure of dependability amongst everything else. Soon, she's roused out of her thoughts by a bundle multi-colored rods being waved in front of her face.

"Here, hold onto this for me would you?"

And as Quinn does as she's told, placing the blue cord into the top right corner, she hears Rick whistle one of her songs, sung by another artist. She's shocked that he knows it, but that warm recognition in his eyes tells her that she shouldn't be.

It's a laid-back tune. When she wrote it she had been thinking about the few events in her life when she felt as if the world was dreamlike, catering to her every unspoken hope. In the song, the protagonist has a person by their side and they're doing nothing but holding hands, sitting along a riverbank and talking about futures.

Towards the end of the song, Rick clears his throat before asking kindly.

"So how come with all the great things going on, you're in here, hanging out with me?"

Quinn chuckles. She imagines being out there, in the rush. Her heart picks up and she finds herself running a hand absentmindedly through her hair. And it's worrying because she swears that she's not a coward.

"I didn't know what to do out there."

"This your first rodeo?"

The question comes softly from the seasoned old man. And as Quinn nods, he has a sympathetic gaze as hands he another set of chargers and plugins. They work quietly and in harmony. The pianist learns a lot about sound technology. Somehow in the quiet moment, Quinn has something to do. Eventually Rick speaks again.

"Quinn, folks here, they've all got their orders. From the makeup people to the roadies who are responsible for the heavy lifting and everything else, we're a team. As in, Rachel relies on us. She trusts that when she goes on stage that everything will be as it should be: the microphone will work and the spotlights won't blind her."

The blonde is rapt with attention. Rick makes sure that her eyes are one his when he warmly tells her the last fact.

"It's the same as how Rachel feels about _you_."

"What?"

The question slips out faster that Quinn can process it. Rick shrugs off her surprise, expecting the resistance. He always found it entertaining how when people were right in the middle of something, they had so many blind spots. It was like your emotions actually had the ability to convince you that you didn't see the elephant in the room or the train coming your way. However, Rick loves Rachel like a daughter and he respects Quinn within seconds of meeting her, so he sets about correctly their line of sight, helping them see the important things.

"Well Rachel trusts you to help her come up with a song that will challenge her vocal range and make her look good. So, she must really believe in your ability to create a song or a piece of music that helps her say something, right?"

Something flashes in the blonde's eyes and for a moment it looks a lot like a mixture of pride and gratitude. Then, her memories kick in and the residual guilt returns. She's conflicted again and it is hard to stay brave and refuse the tears that threaten to come. She feels a hand pat her shoulder comfortingly. He gestures to the crates on the left and ensures that she takes a seat. When they're comfortable, he starts.

"Listen, I've been with that girl since her first big show."

His first statement tells Quinn that she's in good company; she's with somebody else that cares deeply for the singer. After all, under the force of that brilliant smile and compassionate personality, Quinn has failed to come with any reason why you wouldn't. However instead of losing her composure, Quinn meets Rick's gaze and waits for him to speak. She wants to learn about Rachel. She needs to know if she's enough to stay in Rachel's world. Rick continues.

"Rachel doesn't trust a lot of people with her music. I mean: the brand, the movies and the endorsements, sure. But, her albums? Her lyrics? I think that once, she told Miss Lopez that she would rather walk away from the whole thing than work with somebody she doesn't trust."

His last statement resounds. And Quinn swallows thickly, feeling the weight of the past few weeks. She remembers the openness at which the singer had let her play and manipulate her melodies. The pianist recalls the concessions Rachel made during their disagreements on lyrics. And the honest admittance after, that Rachel actually thought that Quinn had the better idea, a stronger grasp on the song.

There was no hesitance when she penned the pianist's writing pseudonym, _Charlie,_ with a flourish on the musical score. In that moment, _something had finally felt right._

"So, if it's about fitting in, you're worried about. I wouldn't even think about it because _she_ obviously thinks that you belong here."

Rick leans down and whispers before looking over Quinn's shoulder and smiling. The pianist closes her eyes, waiting for what the raised hairs on her neck and quickened pulse was already telling her.

"Hellow Quinn, is the seat taken?"

With that, Rachel enters Quinn's line of sight. She stands, waiting for permission and the pianist finds herself speechless. _If_, her brain had just been a little more absent and her muscles a more disobedient, Quinn was quite sure she would have reached out to touch the singer's hand, face, waist…_something._ She might have even fallen to her knees. It seemed like the only sensible thing to do when Rachel stood with flawless mascara and a perfectly crafted silk dress that emphasized her figure. The singer was beautiful, temporarily making Quinn forget that how to communicate with anything other than a reverent gaze.

"I'll leave you two alone for a while."

Rick excuses himself, with an amused grin. Rachel finally sits in the spare space next to Quinn when the blonde finally returns and she shuffles aside for the singer. They don't talk about Quinn's lack of speech or the red flush underlying Rachel's cheeks at the attention. Instead after a small pause, Rachel finally asks the question that's been on her mind.

"Did you have a good trip in Lima?"

Quinn releases a sigh of relief at the question. She tries not to miscomprehend it as anything more than friendly curiosity. It was hard because whilst she had been Lima, her thoughts about Rachel were never brief, always infused with more than a simple desire to see the singer again.

"Yeah, I had a few things to take care of… Your fathers miss you."

There's a quiet and Quinn wonders if she's overstepped. She wasn't sure if her time with Rachel's parents had been a fair or even right, but she craved the connection. Was that understandable? They had never talked much about Rachel, neither side felt inclined. However when Quinn sat down opposite Hiram or Leroy and they nodded softy, before going on to some random topic, _it meant that Rachel was all right_. It meant that the singer was the closest thing to happy she could be in the moment and Quinn could breathe. So the pianist doesn't know what to expect, however the thing about Rachel Berry was that she's always been able to surprise the blonde.

Rachel nods to herself, before responding. _She already knew._

"_Thanks for keeping them company when I couldn't."_

Quinn's eyes widen, looking up to meet the singer's gaze. Rachel has a knowing look and a shy smile. Her expressions haven't changed all that much, still more than capable at putting Quinn at ease. And the pianist returns the smile, she doesn't ask for forgiveness because it isn't needed. Instead she just manages to whisper a small word that sound a lot like a promise.

"Always."

There's a pleasant silence and they both tune their hearing to the world outside of the sound tech room. They could hear the crackling of headsets and speakers, glad to be away from it all. They don't tell each other that this is the most comfortable they've felt in years, doing absolutely nothing and finally _not feeling lonely_. Quinn finds herself chuckling at the situation.

"You know Lima is so proud of you. Your new single plays in the lunchroom and the glee club have done a cover of quite a few of your songs."

Rachel doesn't say anything however there's a way she rubs her neck, which says that she's embarrassed. She's not interested in the millions. However the way Quinn speaks, it reminds Rachel that the blonde is a part of Lima and maybe, _just maybe,_ Quinn was speaking about herself too.

Quinn doesn't really know where she's going with this; she just wants Rachel to know the truth, that she's beautiful, talented and _wanted_. The next statement, sounding so much like a confession, slips from her lips.

"I think McKinley's whole male population is in love with you a little bit."

"Are you?"

The question comes without thought and the two girls hold each other's gaze. Quinn breathes deeply. Emotions swirl in her eyes and she's not sure if it's prudent to answer the question. They were just starting to be around each other again and love was such an undue pressure. In the time apart, she's learnt that it didn't need to be said aloud to be true.

Likewise, Rachel is trying to understand the words that come out of her mouth. Her heart is racing and she's hasn't felt this scattered since her debut. Normally she loves it when thoughts go away and emotions take the wheel. However with each passing second, she's less certain she'd know what to do with the answer, _whatever it was_.

Instead, she shakes her head exasperatedly.

"I'm…I'm sorry... my brain and…."

Quinn schools her features. She finds that even if it wasn't the right time, it was difficult to stamp down the disappointment at the loss of opportunity. There's another deep breath and a firmer headshake as Rachel fixes a focused look on her face. She mutters adorably to herself.

"_Friends_. Ok."

There's nothing to suggest that she's succeeding, but despite everything, they find humour in her attempts, _sharing a laugh_. As it dies down, Rachel whispers to the empty room.

"Would you believe me if I told you that I'm nervous tonight?"

Quinn tilts her head curiously.

"You don't get anxious, Rachel."

And it's true. Rachel has never felt jitters about a performance, only towards the background drama and stories around it. She wouldn't give it up though because since her childhood music and life has always bled together. Romance was so often weaved into the bridges and personal challenges propelled the chorus with strength and a sense of unity. They were the glee club and nothing was insurmountable. So Rachel tries to be brave because she never thought that she would be still able to feel Quinn in her lyrics and mind. She manages to confess.

"…_I was around you_. When you were in cheerios uniform arguing with me, when you watched me in glee as I sang, as if you didn't dislike me as much as you let on… and when you held my hand so proudly down the hallway in school. _I got so nervous._"

It's the truth in the singer's voice that shows Quinn that she's not as strong as everyone makes her out to be. A tear slips down her face and it isn't sad, because their past is _good: _from the moments in the choir room to the nighttime walks by the park_. _It is the thing that sometimes still helps them sleep at night and try again, with somebody _different_ and somebody _new_.

Quinn whispers softly.

"I'm sorry."

The apology is short but wrought with pain. Rachel smiles wistfully; reaching up to brush Quinn's bangs back.

"You shouldn't be."

Somehow, Rachel stops herself at the last second, to remind herself: _friendship_. They were trying for platonic. She wasn't ready for anything else, or at least, that's what her rational side tells her. She pretends not to see the sadness that flashes into the pianist eyes and Quinn lets her. The blonde straightens, leaning back from the intimacy of their closely positioned faces. She tries to be less of a temptation.

The act is sweet and heartbreaking. They both look into the distance, afraid that the small grain of peace and control would disappear entirely if they pushed. Quinn even thinks about standing and going to Santana, to give up and give in. But she doesn't. Instead, her mind replays the pledge she made to the singer the first time. _I won't (walk way)… if you won't. _

Rachel seemed to understand the memory as she clears her throat and easily holds the pianist's attention.

"I know that it's hard right now. For the first time in a while, we don't know what to do around each other _and how to be_, but I just want you to know. I'm glad you're here. _I'm glad it's you._"

Quinn doesn't say a thing. She simply slips her hand into Rachel's and squeezes comfortingly. And the singer can't help but feel protected, convincing and ready to take on the world.

They both recognize that it was easier at the start, when the joy of seeing each other again pushed everything from their minds. They forgot how deeply they cared, and just settled on being whatever they could, a singer and her writer, a tentative friend.

The moment is later interrupted by Santana's voice but to her credit she actually does look apologetic.

"Hey Rachel we've got a problem."

/

"Dammit, Lewis, are you freaking _insane_? You decide to go skinny dipping in what has got to be one of the most bacteria infested places the night before a PR performance?"

Santana bellows down at the conference-calling device. Her eyes flash with rage and distaste and she fights with herself not to throw something. Instead, she keeps her hand planted firmly on the glass table as she leans over the microphone input. In the last half an hour, the girls had retired to the meeting room to take Lewis's phone call.

He had called with a nasally and cracked voice and the constant sounds of tissue blowing. Rachel tries not to cringe at the squelching sounds as Lewis tries to clear the sputum, whereas Brittany and Quinn hold straight faces. They simply wait and weather their friend's tirade. The familiar furious and vicious tones roll off them, as they understand that Santana _is_ already using her least destructive outlet.

Rachel seems tired as she massages her temples. They had been at this for the last several minutes and she starts to feel the stresses weigh in.

"Santana, can you please calm down, I'm sure he didn't do it on purpose."

The plea is said in resignation to the situation. The Latina simply rolls her eyes dryly. She thinks that she always knew that taking on that boy, as a client, would give her an ulcer. _But_ _no_, Brittany and Rachel had stared her down with their combine wide eyes and pouting lips.

"Of course he didn't. If he did, he knows that I'd have his empty head on a platter! He's just stupid. God, we have so many people out there!"

Santana sighs, dropping to down on her seat. Lewis's apologies go unheard in the background, as the residents of the room look towards each other. Brittany had her bottom lip between her teeth in thought and Quinn was already looking at the musical score, trying to see a change in the music that would make sense. Santana flips through the itinerary, trying to find room in the timetable for a contingency. Rachel comes to the center of the room, leaning against the desk.

"Ok. Look, let's just focus on trying to fix this or at least come up with a way around it. It's too late to cancel. So suggestions?"

There's nothing but silence and Santana's muttered curses. Eventually. Quinn asks from her position in the corner.

"Rachel how are you feeling?"

The brunette is caught off guard by the soft kindness in the question.

"I'm a bit surprised by all this, but I'm fine."

Quinn nods at the response, pushing off from the wall. She has the musical score in hand and a pencil in the other. It's a strange thing because she's not in one of Santana's power suits or Rachel's glamorous dresses yet she manages to be the lead in her light blue button up shirt and darkened jeans. Her back is straight and amidst the troubles and indecision in the room, she can be the person that isn't lost. Similar to _back then_, she can still _be_ composed and a _quiet hero. _

"Listen, I think that I can rework the song into a solo for tonight's performance. I just have to change a few bars and the wording."

For a while, the girls all look at each other, waiting for a reaction. It's been a while since Quinn's voice organized them and it has the same effect as it always did. Squabbles were put aside and arguments were thrown away. The blonde is graceful under pressure. Santana runs through the agreement with the ticketing agency, and is the first to respond.

"That could work."

Brittany claps happily, walking around to give each of the girl's a hug. When the dancer's arms are around Rachel, the singer finds vosopm trapped on Quinn. Their eyes meet and the air is charged. Once again, a conflicted expression favors the pianist's features before it disappears. Quinn nods to Rachel, as she turns away to carry out her task. Her hand is almost on the door when the singer's voice calls her to a stop.

"Wait. Quinn. How's your voice?"

There's a hesitance to Rachel's speech: a vulnerability to rejection from the unspoken question. Santana looks up in shock, her gaze flickering between the two girls, whilst Brittany simply smiles. She takes a seat next to Santana and helps the Latina with her papers, not needing to watch the scene. When their fingers brush, there's a promise for more when they're back at their apartment.

"_No_, Rachel. I can't sing with you out there."

Quinn's worried words cut across the room as she turns around with wide eyes. For the first time, Rachel sees a very real fear in the blonde's face. And, without her control, she's walking over, stopping right in front of Quinn.

"Hey. Hey. _Hey_… Quinn, listen to me ok?"

Escaping both their notice, Rachel has one hand around the back of Quinn's neck holding their foreheads together and the other naturally holding the pianist's waist. The singer pauses, looking up to meet hazel eyes. She forgets to breathe. And with only centimeters between them, she whispers fiercely, powerfully, and lovingly.

"This is _nothing_. Close your eyes and remember nationals. It's just you, and me, and we're in front of an audience. _We're ok_."

They're so close and remain so as an unsure nod comes from Quinn. She's dazed, not quite sure what she just agreed to. However she finds that in such close proximity and with Rachel's perfume still lingering, _she doesn't care_. She was willing. God help her, she would do anything.

Just ask her.

/

When it's time, Rachel walks first to center stage. She seems confident and unless you were one of three girls, you wouldn't think twice. However, Brittany recognizes the lack of Rachel's normal fluidity in her walk. The singer seemed to almost bounce as her heels pushed off, excited and _happy_. Santana could pinpoint the way Rachel's hand seemed almost white in its grip on the microphone. Whilst Quinn, she didn't need to analyze, she thinks that she can feel Rachel's exhilarated state as it is reflected in herself.

"Hi everybody. Thank you for being such a great audience so far. Let's give Allison Creek a round of applause for the great opener."

The decibel of the sounds of hands coming together is astounding. The crowd was eager in their exuberance for Rachel and for the most part, it was as if the singer fed off their energy in a natural symbiosis. She's where she's supposed to be as she touches the hands of the fans vying for her attention in the front row.

"So tonight, I know that you're expecting and hoping to hear the new song off my new movie with Lewis Tanning! And I'd love to give you that. But, Lewis has gone and gotten himself sick."

A wave of grumbles flow through the arena. Rachel isn't fazed as she shakes her head with a brilliant smile.

"I know. I know. Such terrible timing isn't it? Now, between you and me, I don't think that he'll ever make it up to you but we'll make him try the next time we see him won't we?"

The crowd roars in agreement, laughing at Rachel's joke and conspiring wink. Quinn is taken, because the thousands had already forgiven the petite singer in seconds. It's a testament to Rachel's character and likeability.

"Now we wouldn't leave you high and dry. I have Charlie with me tonight. She's penned most of the hits of 2011 and 2012! We remember Hostage of Love and The Brokenhearted, don't we?"

The spotlight quickly falls on Quinn and the blonde is unsure and still. She's almost comes undone the attention. There's a gap before the recognition, and _then_, the crowd cheers. It is so _loud_, their adoration obvious. Quinn even hears her song being sung as Rachel holds her microphone to the voice a young girl at the front. The girl couldn't be more than 13 years as she and Rachel sung a few lines of the chorus. And Quinn doesn't know how to stop the tears from coming as the weight disappears from her shoulders and Rachel's brown eyes hold hers, communicating warmth, devotion and encouragement.

"Well, she wrote this new song for the movie, and tonight, you're going to hear us both sing it!"

Lewis seemed like a far and forgotten person as the enthusiasm of the arena continues. Rachel smiles as she adjusts the earpiece to sit better for the performance. When it does, she walks over to Quinn, who still seemed reserved.

Quinn is _nervous_ and she's just terrified that she'll disappoint. However, her rapid thoughts slow when Rachel once again stands in front of her. The singer has one hand extended, waiting. For just a second, they're back at prom. However this time, _this time_ there is nothing but trust and love when Quinn places her hand in Rachel's, letting the singer walk her to the piano. The crowd finally quiets as they realize that it is almost the beginning. And in the brief moment of quiet, Rachel takes the time to whisper.

"Quinn, are you sure you want to do this? It's not too late."

Even if the pianist was uncertain, _with that question_, her fears fade to the back of her mind. She meets Rachel's gaze and nods softly because the singer was still putting her _first_. Rachel would guard her emotions. So, she places her fingers on the keys and starts the slow purposeful notes.

Six on the second hand till New Year's resolutions

There's just no question what this girl should do

Quinn's voice trembles and her soft alto leave an impression, perfect in its poignant story telling. She manages to infuse the lyrics with the confusion and depression entitled by her character. Rachel smiles at the appropriate change of gender. She wonders if the media can tell that she's completely and utterly captivated by the way the pianist's fingers move so elegantly or that she could tell you about the emotions that that curtain of blonde hair was hiding. And soon, it doesn't really matter, because Quinn is completely open in her next lines, heavy with guilt and apologies.

Take all the time lost, _all the days that I cost_

Take what I took and give it back to you

The girls recall the time apart. The misery is at the forefront and it's the first time they've actually acknowledged it instead of just ghosting over it. They had been afraid that if one of them mentioned the truth, all their interactions would fall apart. Rachel might still be angry with Quinn and Quinn might still not be whole enough to stay. However, the lyrics are honest and for a moment they question just how much of themselves they placed into the song. Gradually, the pianist's voice filters in again.

All this time we were waiting for each other

All this time I was waiting for you

We got all these words, can't waste them on another

So I'm straight in a straight line running back to you

Every word is slow, certain and deliberate. Quinn's breath catches as she looks across the stage to meet Rachel's gaze. She wants to stop, before it gets to serious and they can't come back from it. However, it's been a long time since they've felt so much and been so close, that they shrug common sense away. In doing so, they both acknowledge that _it isn't a game_.

Rachel starts the next verse, hoping that her voice represents her character's and not her own. But it is increasingly hard. She can hear their love story in the song and it is compelling, forcing them to voice the secrets that they didn't want to say.

I don't know what day it is, I had to check the paper

I don't know the city but it isn't home

It had happened so many times on the long tours. Rachel would wake up eat breakfast, do rehearsals and perform, without noticing the time, date or place. One year, she had woken up to candles and cake; unsure as to whose birthday they were celebrating until Brittany told her that it was her own. Somehow in the frantic progression in her career, she lost direction, happily giving in to the tiring choreography and sleepless encores just to numb her thoughts of the pianist. The after-concert alcohol did an excellent job freezing her mind, but she couldn't find a cure for the pain in her chest, not with the girls or the boys. Her only reprieve had been the songs that _Charlie_ had written.

You say I'm lucky to love something that loves me

But I'm torn as I could be wherever I roam

Rachel looks away to the crowd, unable to continue looking at Quinn. She couldn't stand watching the effects of her devastating honesty. She had never meant to hurt Quinn with this, sure that the pianist had been through a similar share of heartache. And if they were being truthful the lyrics didn't cover everything. It wasn't _all_ harrowing. Rachel could go on for hours about her first big concert, the elation and gratitude for finally getting there_. The pianist had mercifully slipped her mind that night._ Rachel loved forming that relationship with the audience. It was everything she had dreamed of.

So there's again a break as Quinn plays the in-between notes. Rachel reflects on the song, she knows the content. She knows the promises of commitment and second chances to come in the chorus and when she sings, Rachel just can't find the moment when the words feel wrong. She just doesn't know how to deal with that.

All this time we were waiting for each other

All this time I was waiting for you

Got all these words, can't waste them on another

So I'm straight in a straight line running back to you, yeah

Somehow Rachel ends up closer to Quinn than they intend, leaning against the instrument. The stage manager at the side might just have a panic attack and lighting crew is busy trying to follow the singer. Still, they laugh and grin because this is Rachel, having fun and letting go. This is Rachel when _she's with Quinn._ An unshakeable smile appears on both girls' faces. There's a slow quirking of the lips as they look away and knowing that the pretense was over. It's comforting, bringing nothing but a beautiful combination of relief and butterfly feelings.

Oh, running back to you

Oh, running back to you

Yeah

Rachel holds the note perfectly, blanketing the entire stadium with her voice. Her back arches naturally in her effort as her hair falls in disarray. And like all those times in the past, it is enough to captivate. Hazel eyes are locked onto every movement, worshipful. Quinn slips, making a mistake and hitting the wrong key. Nobody notices, but they do cheer when her voice filters in. Quinn is new and a stranger, yet in the spur of the moment, the world wants nothing than to see them together. They forget that the song isn't written for two girls on stage. They forget the fact that they're both girls in general…

Oh, I would travel so far

I would travel so far

To get back where you are

There are a lot of things that still have to be worked out, thought through and dealt with. It's never been more obvious as the music reaches a feverish pitch. The audience can appreciate it as the girls and their honesty bring them to the precipice, causing them to hold their breath and wait. People often talk about points of no return. If ever there were such a thing, then it is magnified hundred fold in the stadium with a crowd of thousands, tonight. Rachel bites her bottom lip and hides her face adorably, eyes completely loyal to Quinn's image. She thinks that she sees her perfection, her happily ever after. It's so disconcerting because it's been _ten years_. What if it's not the same? What if _they're_ not the same?

Quinn continues to play the interlude. She's doing so live and without any planning because when they had made arrangements backstage, they _never _accounted for this. However, the singer needs to process the events, to catch up to the single notion that has been plaguing the pianist all this time. That, given the opportunity they were done being children trying to play house, no this time, they would actually build their future _ground up. _

As the seconds pass, the need to continue becomes more urgent. The band is keeping up but their rhythm falters each time the girl's don't take their cues. So whilst Quinn would be content to just play music for Rachel forever, the agitated gestures of the performance director cause her to start. She simply hopes that Rachel might meet her halfway or even at the end because she might always be waiting.

_All this time we were waiting for each other_

Rachel looks torn. She lets Quinn's voice wash over her. A tear slips down her cheek at the sincerity.

_All this time I was waiting for you_

Finally looking up, Rachel acknowledges the words. Her smile is unsure as she takes a wobbly step forward so that she's standing beside Quinn. Rachel hasn't got an answer yet, but the blood that rushes through her veins cause her cells to come alive. She feels light, like she's in another place and everything left in her mind screams at her to move closer.

_Got all this love, can't waste it on another_

_So I'm straight in a straight line running back to you_

The first half of the chorus is finished. There's an increasing sense of finality and when Quinn catches Rachel's gaze she can see her wavering convictions and the subsequent irritation that the singer addresses to herself. It's not anybody's fault. Quinn wants to reassure, but her script is set and all that's left is to finish the song. She has no expectations or blame towards Rachel, and if her years of practice in a small café in Lima are enough, her voice might be able to carry that comfort and hope.

_Straight in a straight line running back to you_

Rachel's hand slips onto Quinn's shoulder as she lowers herself onto the edge of the stool next to the pianist. Their sides brush and only they can hear each other's small catch of breath. Quinn focuses on her hands and Rachel stares at the notes on the music sheet.

_Straight in a straight line running back to you_

Just before the last line, Quinn will let her eyes flicker to the singer beside her. The music will slow to a heartbreaking pace, signaling an ending. And Quinn's lips will open to sing the last line. But before she does, another voice does so instead. Rachel holds the pianist's gaze as she finishes for the _both of them_.

_Straight in a straight line running back to you_

The cheers of the crowd is deafening as they watch the girls find each other on the other end of the cliff.

Backstage, Santana would ask a question to someone on the phone.

"How did you know it was going to work?"

There's a chuckle as Lewis's voice comes across the connection, clear and _healthy_.

"Because as much as Rachel loves the stage, there hasn't been a moment where she didn't wish that that girl was right there with her."

/

The curtains have fallen and the girls haven't moved an inch from their piano stool. Adrenaline rolls of their bodies in waves and the reality of their actions begin to set in. Without the background of thousands and the pressure of putting on a show, they feel as if their strings have been cut and now, their choices were entirely their own. There's no template of their memories to follow and nothing else to consider. Rachel's heart beats rapidly in her chest and she swears she might have a mild panic attack. Unbidden, a pained confession slips out.

"I sorry I can't…"

Quinn swallows. She thinks that that's the answer she was expecting. But still, maybe she the hopeless romantic as Santana has always teased about because try as she might, nothing comes to mind when the refusal is made real. However_, she doesn't leave_ and that is perhaps the difference of the years. Quinn will stay this time, because she's finally learnt that logic and emotions make mistakes.

Rachel on the other hand has more trouble because whilst Quinn is different, it is not in any of the ways that actually makes her anything less in the Rachel's eyes. Instead her mouth is dry and she thinks that Quinn's open concern is a more attractive quality. It's the last cap to the already strong conclusion that Rachel _still cares too much about the pianist. _She immediately wants to take her words back, however the flash of fear she felt when the song finished and their faces started to lean in close, _it was paralyzing_.

"It's all right. Rachel, please breathe it's ok."

Thoughts and random reasoning collide chaotically in their minds. Quinn seems to have given into the tide as she whispers to the singer. Her hands are reluctant to provide any real touch or comfort, confused by where the boundaries exist anymore. The blonde, who's so tortured and built on heroic notions, finds her options and abilities at a low. So, she does what most overlook. Instead of gallivanting around for a cure or slaying a ferocious dragon, she stays with the princess and hopes that her presence is what is really needed.

And it is that defeated drop of her shoulders. It is the way her hazel eyes are almost down cast and it is the fact that Quinn's hands constantly fidget in her lap, fighting between hovering over Rachel's own and pulling away. But, it is enough to _ignite something in the singer_. Rachel falls prey to the nervous pounding in her veins and the shame filling her gut because all of this feels very much like the first time. It feels wrong. _It feels too much like giving up_…except now there's no resistance. Quinn looks to Rachel as if maybe she had the answers to everything. She gives Rachel the ability to hurt her, _knowing_, that there's a very real possibility that Rachel will.

Rachel thinks that it is because the pianist needs to feel punished… _It is one of the few times that she's actually wrong._

"No! Stop it, Quinn. Stop letting me hurt you! Don't say that I'm not because I know I am!"

By now Rachel is standing, pacing and bearing down on the pianist. The crew has filtered away to give them privacy, most likely from the orders of Santana.

Quinn flinches at Rachel's tone; pleading, broken and still piercing all the same. She blinks, surprised by the statement. She's not used to being looked after and taken care of. In their years apart she's forgotten how Rachel does so perfectly. It's effortless because Quinn's micro-expressions are maybe still the first things that come to mind. In a world of fame and money, it is maybe one of the few things Rachel's invested in. There's nothing but concern in her large brown eyes as she walks to Quinn, reaching out to hold those clasped hands. Her voice is quietly determined.

"Quinn, I can see it in your eyes when I get too close and when I walk away. _I'm hurting you_, there's no happy medium. Don't you get it? None of this is ok!"

The last words come out flustered, as it seems as if it's them against the world because it sure felt like it. Rachel runs a hand roughly through her hair, looking away. Quinn doesn't deny it. She'd be lying. It wasn't so much the uncertainty in each other because the girls seemed to trust naturally and unconditionally, even after all this time. The painful experiences lay in the uncertainty about their _actions_, as both girls tried to follow the rules that have been prescribed.

So they make mistakes and overstep because it meant that they could still be _close_, clinging to the protection that friendship gives. They pretend that it is all right, only letting themselves feel the positives of contact and too familiar conversations. They were waiting for it to be too much, _and it was tonight_. Rachel can barely see through her rapidly moistening eyes as she shakes her head.

"_I can't…_"

With that soft confession, everything else seems to follow. Rachel regains her momentum as she feels more like herself, _honest and kind. _

"Quinn, it's not ok that when I walk into a room, _any room,_ that I am always hoping that you'll be there."

Rachel takes a breath. She gives herself this one as she lifts her hand to tuck Quinn's wayward blonde lock back behind her ear. She's transfixed, as Quinn's eyes seem to flutter shut, leaning into the touch. Rachel's lips part as she can't seem to concentrate her vision elsewhere. The next part is said in one breath, in a decibel that's almost too soft to hear.

"And it's not ok that as I finally get the courage to talk to you about this I am unbelievably distracted by how much I want to throw caution to the wind and kiss you."

A blush appears under pale cheeks, running down Quinn's neck. Rachel always thought that the blonde was one of the few people that appeared more charming when they were furious or embarrassed, bringing out the passion in their eyes and colour to their faces. Rachel mutters once more.

"_I don't understand this_."

Quinn softens under the words. She thinks that they're finally at the same place, ready to admit that what they had now wasn't enough and being frightened of what happens next. However in high school they had made plans and used labels, perhaps a little cornered by their vision of a future together. New York. Julliard. And NYU.

So with the chances of success so rare, Quinn doesn't want to make the same mistakes.

"Rachel. Please. This is whatever you want it to be."

There's a pause and then a humorless laugh. The singer has her forehead to her hand shaking her head to herself. There's a whole lot placed in that statement and Rachel doesn't know how to vouch for both their hearts. Quinn slowly stands meeting the singer toe-to toe. And with Rachel's high heels they're actually the same height. The magnetism is there and they both just want to lean in. It's not the time or place. Quinn uses her hand to bring Rachel's chin up. She holds those brown eyes with a sense of warmth and purpose. And like in the past, she follows Rachel's emotional lead. Quinn takes a deep breath and she feels more like the person that the singer fell in love with, _honest and non-cowardly._

"Rachel I'm here. I'm _finally_ here. And I'm only sorry that I couldn't be here with you sooner, to be a real part of your new life. Because, it _is_ great. "

The fierce attention of the pianist has Rachel off kilter. It's funny, because it is not the millions that trigger her butterfly feelings. It is a certain girl, with a certain way with words and Rachel's heart. Quinn is protective and sincere as she squeezes Rachel's hands.

"When you sing_, I believe it_. You could tell me that sky is falling and all I'd do is find a place to hide with you. Like nothing else, I have faith that you will stay captivating."

And after that statement, Quinn steps back because this next part couldn't be said in such close proximity when their heads were swimming and their cheeks were warm. They both try to show that the distance doesn't affect them. They're both poor actors.

The pianist smiles gently. It makes Rachel feel safe. And then Quinn speaks.

"So I'm _not _being submissive."

There's no hesitance as she pauses to let the thought sink in.

"I'm _not_ letting you walk all over me."

Rachel's eyes snap up. And she sees Quinn _in the moment_; confident, certain and so much like the girl who owned McKinley's hallways. Maybe, Rachel mistook Quinn's new calmer persona for complacency. She'll admit that she's wrong as the pianist's words wash over her.

"I'm just trying to give you everything you want because even if we're _not_ together and even if we're _not_ friends, just by standing on a stage or eating in café, there's a large part of me that will always be yours to do with, _however you want_."

It is with that last confession, that Quinn lets a brief flash of vulnerability enter her eyes. Barely there and quickly shelved for another time, Quinn remembers Tyler, Brittany, Santana and even Sue. She remembers to be brave. And Rachel just needs to erase it. She needs to make sure that Quinn's fears are never hidden away but actually put to rest. She realizes that she had missed the mark with her expectations. Rachel didn't need memories of who the blonde used to be when the girl that stood in front of her was _the same person_, _grown up_ and _open._

Rachel can see that she'd lost her control over her feelings the second she saw Quinn in the studio. There hadn't been anything else but the knowledge that this was what they were both waiting for. So she crosses the distance and leans in, kissing the pianist. It's sweet, soft and simple, containing nothing but promises.

"_All I ever wanted was you."_

Quinn closes her eyes at the singer's broken whisper, leaning their foreheads together. Her hand caresses Rachel's jaw and she _understands_.

"I get it you know, this isn't a decision that needs to be made now."

Rachel's eyes open in surprise. Quinn ignores it and continues, needing to get through.

"If you don't want to try again, then tell me _one last time_ that you just want to be friends."

A whimper almost escapes Rachel's lips as she looks away. Her heart thunders rebelliously at the idea. Quinn on the other hand breathes deeply, trying to keep her voice neutral and level. She tries to be strong.

"But, on the off chance that you aren't sure yet, on the _possibility_ that you think that I am still someone that you want, then close you eyes and say: _I need some time._"

Time, it's the last thing Quinn can still give Rachel, _precious_ considering the circumstance. Quinn thinks that she can withstand the wait. She'll hold her breath and her pulse will beat away. She's kind of still surprised by how far she's willing to go and it is a last example how Rachel's security still matters. Because every time Quinn thinks she's reached the end of the earth there's just a little more over the horizon.

Rachel wants to give into the only answer that seems right but she recognizes the sacrifice and she acknowledges that the need to be sure about her decision for both their sakes. So she places a hand over Quinn's racing heart, letting the strong beat sooth her worries psyche. It is familiar and strong. Rachel whispers.

"_Quinn…I need some time."_

It isn't _no_. And it's the first time since they've come together again that when Rachel walks away, Quinn isn't wearing a sad look. Instead the blonde brings the singer's knuckles to her lips and brushes across each and every one before letting go with a kind nod and reassuring smile.

/

The next days becomes more than anyone ever expects. Quinn becomes caged in her large hotel room as the media flank the main entry of the building's lobby and the backdoor of the service elevator. They deal with the repercussion of their actions, as the world asks questions and assumes many stories about how the girls sang so seamlessly with each other, speculating sexuality and relationship rumours.

They wonder who is Charlie? But most importantly who is Charlie to _Rachel Berry?_

The pianist simply watches from her bedroom window at the swarm of people that almost seem like pinpricks from her vantage point. She drinks her tea and swallows her cereal, trying to find things to keep her mind preoccupied. It doesn't help because she still worries about Rachel. She wonders if the brunette is encountering a worse situation. She hopes that their progress hasn't changed. She continues to give _time._

Rachel, on the other hand with Santana and Lewis, tries to battle the paparazzi and the perceptions of social media. Her hands are busy with irate record executives and angry letters regarding her problematic public image. However, her saving grace is that she has never made any statements or given any illusions as to private life. She has managed to live under the anonymity and the image of those _theatre types_ of where she has her roots.

It is so that when examined carefully, she has never committed any betrayal or great slight towards her audience. _She won't give up caring about this girl._

_/_

The time continues. Santana and Brittany continue to guard both fronts. They protect the girls as best they can. However no moves have been made and the girls refuse to divulge anything. They worry when they have to deliver Quinn's groceries because the blonde can't leave through the throng of people with microphones and cameras. They grow angry when they have to help Rachel withstand the accusations and viscous opinions of those presenters who claim to care with their disarming smiles and shiny teeth.

There's a definite parallel to the past as Brittany and Santana stand in their home. They share looks of concern and fatigue. The dancer holds up her hand. And again it's _rock, paper, scissors. _The only difference is that this time Santana stops before they reach conclusion_. _

_She tells Brittany that there's already somebody she needs to talk to. _

Brittany simply nods and kisses Santana lovingly on her cheek, a sign of good luck.

/

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Rachel glares at the sounds coming from her door as she drops her bags. She had just gotten home after going what felt like three rounds with her music producer, having a particularly bad day in the studio. She couldn't remember the last time she had so much trouble with pitch. Rachel hadn't processed the events since that night, her vision still flashing black spots from the many cameras. Still, there's only so much time that the person on the other side of the door gives, before the knocking becomes more impatient and irate. With the list of approved visitors strictly monitored by her the building's security, Rachel thinks that she already knows who her guest would be as she opens the door.

Santana stands with her arms crossed and a raised eyebrow. She has nothing short of pure determination in her face, _as for once_; the Latina is without her crisp business-wear. Instead, she is only a grey oversized jumper and skinny jeans. Rachel's shoulders drop because the off-the-clock version of Santana, the one that is a _friend_ and so very protective, is sometimes the voice of reason that Rachel doesn't know how to deal with. When Santana has that disappointment and sharp sense of knowing in her eyes, Rachel finds that she doesn't know how to _listen. _So, in the meantime she settles for indifference.

"What Santana, did you draw the short straw again?"

The small piece of insecurity and hurt mixed in with the bitter question manages to faze Santana. For a second her attitude drops and she looks to her friend sadly. Admittedly she had never said so and whether it was Quinn's intention or not, Santana has no idea how to function without the loud and unbelievably persistent tones of Rachel Berry. The Latina has come to expect that morning reminder from the singer, as she sculled down cups of espresso, saying that such amounts caffeine wasn't healthy and stained your teeth.

"No. Berry, if you don't get it now you may never get it: you're my friend. So, I _want_ to be here. I wanted to be the one to talk you through this."

Santana ends on a soft note as she looks to Rachel to understand. The singer simply gives a small nod in acknowledgement before continuing her long list of self-set tasks for the evening, refusing to look towards the Latina. She's afraid that there might be something in Santana's expression that will break her, showing her how Quinn is faring.

"Why haven't you spoken to Q yet?

It's the starting question, to open the case. Santana makes herself comfortable lifting herself to the kitchen island, sitting across from Rachel. The singer doesn't give a response. She doesn't have one. The only thing that remains in mind is that she isn't willing to mislead or hurt Quinn a fiftieth time with false promises and a jumbled mind. She thinks that blonde is nothing short of ethereal now that she's finally figured herself out, _even if it was without Rachel_. It was what they wanted. It was the point where Rachel had hoped they would reach together, through college and during there continued relationship.

However now, the fact that it didn't happen in that perfect fairy tale way didn't make the pianist's changes any less significant or _any less breathtaking_.

It only makes Rachel confused about her current choice, preoccupied by a past that won't let go. Santana watches the emotions that weave in and out of Rachel's many expressions. She sighs to herself, shaking her head. She thinks that she's going to get stomach ulcers from dealing with her two friends. The thing about being nice and liked was that you never get to tell the truth. You'd be so afraid by how it makes you look and what kind of person that it would make _you_ to think in such a way. Santana never understood it, but she's ready to make Rachel see. So she asks a simple question, for once genuinely curious with the answer.

"Do you really want to hurt her like that?"

Maybe it was the fact that Santana _was always brutally honest_ or maybe it was that the Latina _had worse sins _in comparison. But Rachel gets the chance to rage and be _mad_. She gets to be honest and not act _affronted or scandalized _by the piercing question. And when Rachel has no words and the heavy silence answers for her, Santana isn't judgmental. Instead, the Latina almost seems expectant, accepting and _proud_. She glad that they're getting to the root of the problem because she'll will only admit this _once:_ that she was part of the betting group that still hoped for a happy ending between the two.

There seemed to a point where Rachel threw away her pretenses. She stopped the obsessive shuffling around of kitchen condiments, taking an anvil to the last bit of mental shielding she had against the past. Her face slackens, her eyes lose their fire and she lets herself return to that point in time in her memories, where everything was wrecked and she _didn't want to believe in love anymore_.

Her words are whispered imploringly, begging Santana to understand.

"_She broke up with me Santana…."_

One deep breath is taken. Rachel: because she needs the break to compose herself. And Santana: because she recalls the aftermath of that night. She'll stand loyally in Quinn's quarter for all their lives, but that mistake with Rachel Berry was one of the few times where Santana strongly disagreed. She suspects that Quinn already knew and thus valued her choice to stay so much more. Once again, Santana will thank glee club for forcing them to set aside the pettiness.

Rachel clears the tears from her voice, staring steadfastly into Santana's eyes. And as her petite hands tug at her dark brown locks, she'll recount the hardest part.

"_She left me crying in my living room, on what was supposed to be the happiest night of our high school lives._"

There's a pause. Santana shrugs. She remembers Quinn's explanations for her actions. She recalls the words and sentences making _sense._ And even if logic failed them back then, it was still ever present.

Santana thinks about Rachel's run, that first on Broadway musical and the subsequent circus that followed. It had been _Julliard's_ _undergraduate student production_ that first caught the eye of critics. It had been a cranky _New York critic_ that raved about Rachel's talent, propelling her into the radar of social media and producers alike. Last but not least, it was being _in_ Julliard, striving through long practice sessions and harsh teachers, which _built_ Rachel Barbra Berry, creating a star.

By gaining independence from the crutches of high school, the singer was who she was now: someone who is a little tougher, more poised and the role model of so many _but the savior of one_.

Thus, undoubtedly New York was the right time. It was the right place. And in hindsight, it was _ok_ if it hadn't been with the _right person,_ if they could still find each other now.

So, Santana says in a serious manner.

"You always knew why though."

Rachel smiles bitterly to herself. She's conflicted. A large part of her wanted to find Quinn and stay in the pianist company for a while, _probably forever_. But they weren't teenagers anymore; there were no excuses for the same mistakes. And was it too much to ask to _be sure?_ To have some sort of a guarantee that happily ever afters were real?

Rachel still wasn't a betting person. She hated gambling when it came to feelings,_ but most importantly,_ she couldn't be the reason for another heartbreakingly sad song.

She didn't want to be the type of person who'd unconsciously hold something over someone in a relationship. Rachel couldn't stand it if she ended up resenting Quinn. So, in the safety of her home, she manages to get it out.

"It doesn't matter… She was wrong. And I waited for her to realize that."

There's a forced anger to her voice and a hollowness that screams a lie. Still, the night was about putting everything on the table; whether Rachel believed it or not. And, whether it was true or not. Another pause fills the conversation and the singer asks Santana.

"Can you believe I waited _3 years,_ before I finally figured it out? She was never going to come to New York. I didn't mean anything to her."

Santana feels her defenses for her friend rise and manages to contain herself. There's just so much that both girls didn't know about the time apart. But the thing was, learning about the pain, loneliness and nights of alcohol-induced sleep wouldn't help either. It would only keep them trapped in the past. By this point, Rachel's tone is tired and she's just hoping that Santana can give her some answers.

"And now what? You bring her up here and expect what?"

Rachel raises the questions. Santana's dark eyes give nothing away causing the singer to huff in frustration as tears once again fill her eyes. Her emotions were all over the place and she tries not to gain comfort from the familiarity of it. Instead, she thinks about all the moments in Quinn's life that she's missed. Rachel wanted to be there when Quinn opened her café and drew up the plans. The singer thinks that she could've helped with her pack of highlighters and organized stationary. _She wanted to be a source of support_, as Quinn had become a leader, talking high school kids down from the heartbreak ledge.

It hurts that she wasn't, and it's the hardest thing for Rachel to let go, as she asks Santana _one more time. _

"You sit there and tell me that _she still loves me_? That she wrote all those songs _for me_?"

"Which part of it didn't you want to know about?"

The return is quick, casual as if everything to this conversation was easy. And Rachel looses it. She can't stand the calm in Santana's eyes as she fell apart. It had been what felt like hours without progress. Anxiety builds to a peak and the singer can't control the words that tumble out of her mouth.

"All of it, Santana! _All of it!_ Because, it means that …we could have been happy for the last ten years and I can't for the life of me understand _why we weren't_."

It was a hard pill to swallow. That the conclusion of the night was that there wasn't a _good reason_ for the trajectories of their lives other a luck, timing and misplaced good intentions on both their parts. Some say that the intent is all that matters. Most times as everything goes to hell, it doesn't feel true…

The girls sit in silence. Eventually Santana starts. She thinks finally understands Rachel and her reluctance. It wasn't malicious. It was just out of concern that the relationship could end badly because Rachel hadn't gotten over what had happened before. The brunette refused to do that to Quinn. Santana appreciated the thought, but she thinks that the singer has her head in the clouds about the complexity of most relationships. The truth was that even she and Brittany had their issues, fights and _moral disagreements_. In those moments, their survival depended on the idea that nothing was permanent, forgiveness and acceptance would come _but meanwhile_ they had to hold on. They had to live up to their belief that a life together was worth fighting for.

"So, maybe it isn't about forgetting or even forgiving just yet."

Rachel looks up. She's surprised by the comment, expecting something else. Perhaps, a sharp slap to the upside and the callous 'just get over it.' However, Santana ignores Rachel, simply going on. She lowers her tone to soften the impact of her words.

"Berry, that shit is heavy and I'm sure that it's left scars on both of you. But, that doesn't justify leaving Q flapping in the wind as you try to _develop the balls_ to talk to her about it."

Santana contemplates something for a moment and it's one of the few times when she's unsure. In the end she rubs her face and sighs. She thinks that Quinn will forgive her for revealing something that might colour Rachel's decision. She thinks that Rachel needs to understand what the concessions that the pianist makes.

"I've been Quinn's friend for a long time. That girl needs control. She lives and breathes it. But a few days ago, she went on stage to sing _with you_, in front of _hundreds of people_. Everything we had been working towards in the _last few years_, the image of Charlie and the possibility of anonymity, she threw away because _right then and there_… she made a _conscious_ decision to choose _you._"

It is a slow process and Rachel swallows and fights to remain unaffected. She doesn't know how to respond. It used to be that she could recognize the emotional decisions and identify the small ticks in Quinn, when the pianist was trying to change. Rachel used to be able to tell when Quinn was gallant and still that little bit self-sacrificing with her actions.

It is unnerving.

Rachel's breaths quicken as the fiddling of her hands demonstrate the return of nervous habits. She swears that in the past she had so much understanding over their relationship, what _she_ wanted, _what to do_ and _how to be_. And now, it seemed that Quinn had found the finish before she did.

Santana is the person in front of her telling her it's a choice, _in the_ _now, _not dependent on the past.

"Is a future with Quinn still everything you want?"

After all these years, Rachel chooses… and it's still the same person it always was. It's been 10 years, they are older, different and still a little lost; but it is real and informed.

She's choosing Quinn… And for the first time in a while, there _is_ something better…

/

In another hotel suite, Quinn lounges on the couch with Brittany, watching the latest reality and interview show. They discuss the merits and criticisms against the dancer's high school video blog 'Fondue for Two.'Brittany defends some of her previous statements and the girls both laugh at the mistakes in filming. The dancer has a surprised hand to her chest when she sees her beloved overweight cat fall into the cooled cheese pot towards the end of a segment. They hold their arms to their stomachs as the jokes become too much.

Quinn doesn't tell Brittany that she knows that the dancer is checking up on her, making sure that she still isn't _doing anything stupid_. Brittany doesn't tell Quinn that she knows that the situation is difficult, and the pianist is _buckling under the pressures and the lack of answer_. They're simply best friends, as the reporters outside are pushed from mind and the weekend develops it's own momentum in sleepovers and horror movies.

When tivo is paused, and they scavenge the cupboards for new snacks, Brittany will walk past a couple of stapled sheets of paper. She'll backtrack to it in surprise, despite the armful of Cheetos and ice cream in hand and look up at Quinn. It takes a while as the pianist studiously digs through the healthy compartment of her pantry to the junk food at the back, but when Quinn notices, there's a brief worry in her face before her shoulders dropped. She glances down to the document on the table and she's resigned.

"What do you want to know?"

Brittany tilts her head as she reads the property agreement. The words talk of a brownstone in the heart of the city, close to the major theatre, museums and recording studios. It's a reasonably high price. The owners have settled with their stamps of approval and signatures but one line remains empty.

"You're moving to New York? Why didn't San tell me?"

The question isn't accusing but confused as brilliant blue eyes dart between the papers and her friend. Quinn releases a sigh, walking to the island. She stands opposite the dancer and helps Brittany put down all the food in her arms for the discussion. It's quiet and they use the time to think. Brittany organizes her questions and Quinn figures out her answers.

Finally, Quinn would speak kindly.

"Santana didn't tell you because I asked her not to. And _I_ didn't tell you because I haven't said yes yet. Between what's happening with Rachel, I just don't know if this is the right decision."

Brittany softens under the uncertainty in Quinn's tone. She reaches for the pianist's hands and squeezes. Quinn looks down gratefully, as her thoughts carry her away. Brittany is supportive and encouraging and it makes the worries slip out a little easier. The pianist might be somebody's shoulder to cry on in Lima, but in New York _and when her mind and heart is tied to Rachel Berry, _Quinn talks to the person that makes things simple and helps her understand.

Brittany_ is not _Santana. The dancer believes that vulnerability and fears should be felt and dealt with. Whereas Santana doesn't know how to help like that, instead she keeps the fort strong and gives you the space and the chance to figure it out.

In the quiet of the large room, Quinn confesses.

"I don't know if I'm supposed to _be _here."

They both absorb the statement before Brittany asks abruptly and with sparkling curiosity.

"Quinn, do you like New York?"

"What?"

Puzzled by Brittany's question, Quinn tried to dissect the words in her mind. It's a question out of left field and she hadn't thought about it. But now that Brittany seemed expectant of an answer, Quinn didn't know why she didn't.

The dancer smiles gently, electing to explain. Her expression is of effort and deliberation and she picks out the right words and in the best order in her mind. She remembers that Santana and Quinn needed different assurances and descriptions. They put so much understanding in the English language, which dealt so hopelessly with love and other emotions. Still, Brittany tries.

"Well Rachel is special, we both know that. She was…a _non-Rachy_ person in college. It took her a while before she could go to classes and sleepy dreamland on her own."

The dancer is visibly miserable by the memories. She likes to think that the period was needed. The singer needed to cry and eat a lot of chocolate and maybe by the end, she could be a stronger Rachel. Maybe then, she could still think about Quinn without it hurting, so that they could love better next time.

The way that Brittany understands it is that, love doesn't go away. She still loves Artie to some extent and all the other guys she's dated. The difference was not in the emotion but in the person woven through it. For her, Santana is _Santana._ The Latina is loud, fierce and headstrong. She cares about Brittany to an extent that stupid things don't seem so bad and nobody else seems worth it. Artie was kind and smart, but Brittany didn't understand some of the things he said or why he wouldn't just make a wish to Santa for a new pair of legs.

There's a jumbled logic and Brittany doesn't know how to do rationalize why Santana was _everything_. She didn't know how to show Quinn how Rachel is the same. All she can conclude is that, she knows how to love the Latina _best_. She's the happiest when Santana is around.

The Latina doesn't brush off the concepts or topics that Brittany didn't understand. Instead she talks the dancer through them and they share kisses afterwards. There's a kindness and emotion there that fills up the room, demanding some sort of response. And love is the closest word to describe it, _but it doesn't feel like it's enough._

During the pensive silence, Brittany realizes that she's gone off-track. She tries to pick up where she left off. She wants to erase Quinn's guilt. She's trying to make it clear and show the knight the path to get to the princess. But there were so many obstacles. Brittany needs to show Quinn the bad parts as well. So she continues.

"That time at Julliard was sad. It made me sad."

The pianist doesn't say anything. The raising and falling of her chest convinces the dancer that her friend is still present. Quinn tries to focus on the topic, the sentences and the ticking of the clock and not the pinpricks in her eyes. She doesn't let her imagination wonder very often these days. The smallest self-loathing part of her mind was always too happy to create scenarios that could bring her to her knees. But when she looks up Brittany seems compassionate and pleased with her. Quinn tries to keep her head up and _listen_ because the dancer's next statements resound with meaning and hope.

"And… _you're_ Quinn. You are convincing, heroic and _considerate_. But when I visited you and San at UCLA, you were the Quinn that Santana talked about _before_ McKinley: sad and not liking herself. I didn't know how to bring happy Quinn back… So, I even asked Rachel about it when I came back to our apartment."

The confession causes Quinn's eyes to widen. Before she could attempt to reign in her thoughts, she was hungry for the brunette's analysis. She has faith that even back then Rachel still understood who she was. After all, the singer was the best at discovering the pieces that Quinn tried to hide. It never occurs to the pianist that such trust in another person was unique, unusual and to be envied. She doesn't see the truth yet.

"Rachel was crying but she said that it was ok. She said that you were both learning to want things again."

Brittany recounted with a far away look in her eyes.

"Rachel told me that if you could do what _you_ needed and wanted for yourself, _before_ thinking about others., then, you would be happy Quinn again. She said that because you chose to think about everybody, it made you a good leader, but a sad person."

There's a pause. Quinn swallows thickly. The statement disarms her as memories rush back. A reminiscent smile appears on her face as she remembers something as simple as grocery shopping for her mother's Sunday church group. Rachel had joined her on that trip, advising on nutritional values and frowning on the meat choices. During the last part, they needed to buy snacks for their movie night with Rachel's fathers. Quinn had asked Rachel what she wanted. The brunette had stubbornly refused to tell her, forcing her to make her choice first. Quinn didn't notice until the checkout, but Rachel had slipped her vegan choices to the cart, next to Quinn's beef jerky. Rachel had looked satisfied when they came out with both choices despite still scrunching up her nose when Leroy and Quinn moaned at the taste of the meat product. It had been simple, but the warm feeling and the racing hearts lasted a while after.

Brittany has furrowed brows as she gets the request out.

"So I think that you should want New York _for you_, before you decide to want it for Rachel and you. Does that make sense?"

And in that moment, Quinn can only nod in response.

/

The next morning, Quinn wakes up. She prepares her cereal and takes a seat on a bar stool by the kitchen island. She stares at the documents on the counter. The words such _transfer of ownership_ and _development rights_ stand out, making it so much more real than television or their parents made it look. Every line was a commitment, a symbol of something permanent. And following her talk with Brittany, Quinn thinks about what _she wants._

/

When Quinn figures it out, it's nighttime and there is an insistent knock on the door. The almost childlike impatience of the sounds makes the pianist relax. She thinks that Brittany is probably back because she had left something on the couch from the night before.

However, Rachel stands on the other side. The singer has a thick coat on and a slightly red nose from the cold. She's shivering but her resolve causes her to stay. Her heart rate was fast from sneaking past the paparazzi still covering the entrance of the hotel, but her hands were shaking because _she couldn't wait_. She could just recall what it felt like to have Quinn around again, for Quinn to be _hers._

The door opens and the blonde is shocked by Rachel's presence, seemingly rooted to her spot. The singer finds that she understands; it has been longer than it should. Eventually Quinn shakes herself out of the stupor and quietly steps aside for the singer to walk in. Naturally, she reaches around Rachel's shoulders for her coat and the singer moves fluidly out of it. The girl's eyes flutter shut as Quinn's fingers graze Rachel's tanned arms. The cells of their bodies feel as if they're thrumming with energy and the slightly romantic light of a couple of lamps exacerbates the situation, distracting their concentrations.

Rachel slowly turns around. She is met by Quinn's waiting gaze and suddenly remembers who held the control. It's been a while but Rachel wants to show the pianist how much it means to her. She wants to show that she could never abuse it. She wants to make them both believe that they didn't need it, if they were working together.

"I'm sorry for yesterday. I'm sorry for the media."

So Rachel starts with an apology. After finally coming to see the blonde, she hadn't realized how bad it was. The shame comes in waves and she holds her arms crossed protectively around her petite body. She almost looks away unable to hold Quinn's eyes. Rachel is grateful that the pianist is still here. _She didn't have to be…not in the face of that_. It was too much to ask. It was more than Rachel thought that she deserved. Her voice trembles as she manages to say.

"I will understand if you want to leave. _But I wish you'd stay._"

Quinn crumbles under the misery in Rachel's expression. She feels a pain in her throat, as her words don't come. She didn't know how to respond to the things she thought she wouldn't hear again. Instead, Quinn takes a shaky breath and reaches out to touch the singer's shoulder comfortingly. Her hand settles on the base of Rachel's neck and she tries not to be entranced by how warms Rachel's skin is or that it's not close _enough._

Rachel leans into the touch, closing her eyes. She tries to get control of her emotions, breathing in measured breaths. Her voice comes out in a whisper.

"_I'm so afraid of being around you."_

Without her heels, Rachel is shorter than Quinn. When she moves a step forward she can just rest her head on the blonde's shoulder. The clean scent of newly laundered clothes, a light floral shampoo and something distinct causes her head to swim and for a moment, she's unstable on her feet. Automatic hands hold her steady by the waist. It takes less than 10 minutes and they're already less than centimeters apart. Rachel murmurs into the pianist's old pajama tee.

"I never dreamed that you would be the one at the end of the tunnel. The person would mean so much to me."

Quinn's breaths catch. She fights the moisture coming to her eyes as she stares at the wall behind. She tries to give Rachel the privacy she needed to continue. Quinn revels in the small things that remind her that she really has the singer in her arms; the scent of baking, the fingers that grip her shirt and the lips that inadvertently brush against her collarbone with each word. After a couple of seconds more, Rachel finally brings herself to step back. She's still in arms length because it's as far as her body is willing to go. Thankfully it is just enough to get her head cleared. Her eyes look tortured and adoring, as her vision delights in the image of Quinn.

The pianist is patient and unmoving, returning the intensity of the attention. Rachel has to try and steel herself before beginning.

"I haven't loved you since we were children."

The singer pauses. The next part is difficult, as the truth of it taunts the both of them.

"In fact there were a lot of moments when I didn't love you at all."

Quinn closes her eyes briefly. The only signs of hurt are the way that she doesn't _breathe _for a second and her clenched fists, which Rachel just wants to go and loosen. Still, she needs to get through, to fix this, to fix _them._

"For a while I even hated you; because it was easier to believe that it was your fault, that you were taking away the happy endings..."

Somehow when Quinn had her eyes closed, Rachel had moved to be right in front of her. Rachel reaches for the pianist's pale hands, noting how they seemed to relax in hers. She meets hazel eyes head on with fierceness and a passion that she had forgotten.

"And I'm _not_ going to say that it doesn't matter. Because Santana is right, that's utter bullshit."

A small smile appears on their faces at the familiar attitude of the Latina. Rachel uses her hand to bring Quinn's gaze back to her. Her tone is as low as a whisper for there is no need for it to be any louder. It was ridiculous that in a room the size of a small house, they were only occupying the space of circle with a diameter of less than a meter.

Still, it felt right. When the air between them was enough to send thrills down their spines, it seems as if it was the only way to _function_.

"But, I think that I finally get it now."

Quinn is hanging on every word and movement Rachel makes and she wonders if it is obvious. The way Rachel blushes makes it seem like it might be. And the Quinn doesn't back away. She'll consent to anything that keeps the singer in her life.

Rachel speaks again, this time the urgency standing out in her tone.

"Quinn…The hurt. The sweaty palms and _the frightful uncertainty_, it is _you_ and it is _me_. It's a part of us. And that's _good.._. It means whatever this is, it certainly isn't temporary."

At that conclusion, there's a strong sense of relief that hits both of them. Rachel squeezes Quinn's hands. She makes her tone deliberate and calming; a promise of things to come.

"And, I don't want to be your friend Quinn."

Rachel shakes her head to herself as she confesses. It's heartbreakingly honest.

"I couldn't stand it if somebody else got the privilege of waking up next to you in the mornings."

Rachel looks up, catching Quinn's gaze.

"You know, when your hair is just that little bit messy and your smile is completely unaffected."

The pianist still looks unsure, fighting the automatic tendency to smile in the singer's company and speech. She's trying to keep her hopes under control. She's trying to protect what's left of her heart. And Rachel smiles sadly, it hurts her that there's a need for Quinn to stay on guard. So she gives up her last truth.

"_It makes my heart race."_

She lets herself touch the smooth skin of Quinn's jaw. Her eyes begs Quinn to fall one more time.

"I _want_ to be the one to remind you that you're beautiful and… that you're _still so much more_ than your looks…."

The blonde remains still and unresponsive. The singer's words keep repeating in Quinn's mind and she's trapped in by her emotions. It's hard to believe that this isn't a dream but Rachel doesn't know what else to say or do. She's at her breaking point.

"I'm sorry Quinn… I apologize for the fact that your hotel room has been a safe haven for the last few days and I'm _unbelievably sorry_ for what they will do to you, just for being _important_ to me…"

Rachel lets the statement hang for a moment. Staying was too much to ask anyone. But, she was Rachel and the pianist was _Quinn_. Maybe they were still the lucky ones. Maybe, in this case, their dedication to each other was enough. There really isn't anything else, as Rachel finishes.

"I'm not going anywhere Quinn. I love you."

For a moment, their gazes stay locked. Then Quinn breaks away, looking up in relief. Her breaths are rapid and uneven as she chokes back a whimper. Rachel stands watching. The pianist breaks _one last time_ and _falls_.

In a swift motion, _and as a flash of determination and want comes into hazel eyes_, Rachel is swept up in a kiss. Quinn is wild, desperate and so unbelievably happy. Nothing feels _enough_. She wants to make each contact longer. She doesn't want to need to breath and she never wants the singer's touch to leave. Rachel barely keeps up but she doesn't mind.

_You're still everything I want…_

/

Meters away the property documents lay forgotten on the counter. However on closer inspection, Quinn's signature is fittingly perfect on the buyer's line.

_Quinn had completed the forms, before Rachel reached her door._

_Maybe, she was always going to stay…_

/

Yay together right? About two more chapters to go =)


	26. Chapter 26 Love Instead

Chapter 26 – Love Instead

Hi. Sorry for taking so long. Major writer's block. I actually wrote 3 different versions of this chapter none of it seemed right until now. Hopefully you'll agree.

_Livbuk1900 – _I think in the last chapter Quinn fought pretty hard (by giving Rachel the decision-choice) but Rachel was a bit unsure and crippled by old wounds (which is fair enough). Thanks for reading =)

_Lochie17 – _Thanks so much, glad you like the story. I'm even more grateful that you're rereading bits of it.

_Piecesofyourheart_ – Thanks for the compliment. I promise that this is a real update, no need to pinch yourself! P.S I love that you know where the avatar is from, you're now one of my fav ppl! "High-five."

_EAnIL_ – Haha, I promise I don't do it on purpose. Where do you live? Maybe it's time zone factor. Hope this catches you before you are trying to sleep =)

_S8105 – _Thanks for the cupcake and sprinkles! Sorry for the long wait. And thank you for making me go all "aw shucks" from your review. I do enjoy character development as well. This chapter ties up a lot of the aftermath and loose ends, I hope you enjoy it and still trust in me =)

_Urdappletomypie_ – So grateful to receive your longest review ever! Thanks.

_ILiveOnMars_ – XD I don't think I've gotten as many proposals as when I started this fic. Thanks for the offer! But, it seems a few chapters back, I have already been married off to _S8105 _=) Hope you like this chapter.

_Phoebex13_ – I'd like to continue writing. It just depends on my workload and what pairing strikes my imaginative fancies. The wild adventures of Lewis and Santana, huh? Could definitely work =) Thanks I couldn't agree with you more; no offence to the writers but I have to admit I don't understand season3/4 Brittany. Weddings and Fababies are in the next chapter but I hope you'll like this chapter just as much.

Now, onto the reading!

/

In reality, it takes only seconds for the events of the past week to catch up to them. Rachel feels herself tremble under the wave of knowledge and leftover excitement over choices made. She doesn't know how she ended up on the balcony of the pianist's apartment. And, if you asked, she couldn't even recall the words that were so desperate to escape her lips that night; to convince, confess and adore.

However, when she's able to close her eyes and finally _rest, _none of it really matters. For the first time, _loneliness and compromise _isn't the only thing to come to mind. One day, Quinn might remind Rachel of her makeshift heroics as she stood and agreed _to second chances _but by then, there'll be so many other stories to tell. Tales of matching silver rings, joint hardships and the sought after happy ending.

Briefly they look out to the world of music, glamour and busy people, anxiously awaiting their return. It's easy to make out the gleam of the high-powered camera lenses if they try. All at once, they realize that nothing is as easy as midnight grocery runs and quiet dinner dates. Not anymore.

And, it _should _scare them. It _should _make them question and reconsider. But maybe this time they don't have to, because when Quinn reaches out to intertwine their fingers, the girls decide that they're done _thinking_.

Rachel has always wondered about fame and the associated large windows on penthouse suites. Was it simply a luxurious paid view of the skyline? Or perhaps the example of a deep longing to rejoin a world to which you no longer fit in. The problem with _elevation_ is that you forget. You barely recall what it's like to walk in the hustle and rush of everyday life, where no one knows you and _better yet_, they might not care to. But, out of all things that Rachel thinks that she's given up, Quinn is the one part of her memories that is determined to stay. Ensconced in the pianist arms, it feels familiar; _it feels so much like home_.

So, after the sun sets, it'll signal the end of the day and perhaps the end of something more important: the last chapters of their lives that they're willing to live apart. For in the dim light, Rachel doesn't want to leave and Quinn has space in her king sized bed, _and a guest room – if the singer feels so inclined._

Briefly, the blonde wonders if she'll have to ask, offer or plead, not that it mattered; she was willing to do all three.

Rachel tilts her head up and softly presses a kiss to Quinn's lips. It's quick and the shy expression that follows is utterly endearing. Her hair might hide the reddening of her cheeks but there's nothing to mask the spark and excitement in her eyes. Suddenly, Quinn finds her pulse quickening. It occurs to her that _she might be a little lost and out of her depth _but she'll certainly enjoy being found.

In the end, it could've been the soft moonlight slipping in during their exchanges. Or it could have been the faint lighting of the phones, stacked on the coffee table and _set on silent, _but even so, it really did feel like they could shut the world out, even if it was only _for one night_. _That possibly_, a romance shared with the public could work.

Maybe Rachel and Quinn didn't have to live by the rules of the game.

Maybe, they could survive and love brilliantly _in the spotlight_.

And maybe, _just maybe_ they could be the ones to make it _easier, _but certainly never _easy…_

/

Somehow they'll make to Quinn's bedroom without breaking contact. The blonde's hands reverently slide down from Rachel's hair to her _neck, shoulder and waist_, lowering her to the bed. They'll fall into each other with a slight dip. And, when the girls finally break apart there's mischief in Rachel's eyes as she tugs playfully on the hem of the pianist's shirt. Quinn chuckles softly.

In the ease of everything, they swear that this is the _happiest they've ever been_. What seemed like a right or entitlement of love in their younger years is revealed to be far _more_ precious and fragile now. Rachel feels herself drift and shiver with the slightest contact. And, Quinn can't recall the last time she was ever so in _awe_ of anything.

Quietly, the singer's voice comes out in a whisper.

"Quinn, this is going to get messy. It's going to be _hard. _All of your secrets and mistakes are about to be broadcast…"

There's a pause, as the frightening notion sinks in. Rachel has a worried grip on the collar of Quinn's shirt. And, as her face remains buried in the pianist's neck, a slow inhale reminds her of the scent that never seemed to wash away. That simple combination of lilac and subtly scented soap brings feelings of security and courage, imbedded not only in her pillowcase and bed sheets but also within recesses of her mind. So, Rachel speaks earnestly. It is slightly muffled, but Quinn finds she understands.

"I'd love to promise you, _everything_…"

_But I can't._ The rest of the sentence is left unsaid.

Quinn rests her chin on the Rachel's head, breathing deeply. She doesn't roll her eyes at the proposed dramatics or wave the concerns away. Instead, she _listens_. She hears the problems, if only so they can be closer to putting them away. _But in the moment_, her heart skips a beat and she's moved by the honesty in Rachel's tone. And to anyone who'd care enough to notice, it's obvious that the singer's words have an effect as the blonde temporarily loses her graceful posture and confident etiquette.

Quinn Fabray has always been strong and independent, whether it was because of a misguided sensibility or lack of trust of others. She didn't _need_ someone to sweep her off her feet. But, Rachel Barbra Berry is …_special, exceptional even_. With nothing but openness and pure conviction in her affections and compliments, she manages to do so and it _feels effortless._ It's _so_ hard to remain unaffected.

And Quinn? Quinn can't quite _force her feet to stay steady on the ground_.

So if luck and circumstances permit, the girls hold onto the hope that they might still be meant for fairytales.

They wake up the next morning with Quinn's arms wrapped around the singer. Rachel's fingers are loosely woven through the pianist's un-brushed hair and they quickly throw away all the lessons that they've learnt about living apart, because, _they're not needed anymore_.

/

In the coming months, the girls discover how to swim against the current because acceptance doesn't come easily. There are times when Lewis, Santana and Brittany have to step in and help. _And during those moments, Rachel and Quinn will wonder if it'll come at all, _because somehow the world is torn. In an age filled with pessimism and the end of Cinderella stories, people are wary about all things new. They think that love is hard enough as it is, and that a love between _two young women, under the glare of Hollywood lights, might just be asking for a little too much…_

Still, Rachel and Quinn are the two that withstand the onslaught. Unlike so many others, they acknowledge that _this_ is the life they've chosen. Rachel loves singing and her voice leaves an impact on every adoring ear. Whilst, Quinn has always been writer. It helps her reflect and draft _their_ story because _someday_, when they're old, maybe a lingering soundtrack can be the thing to remind everyone and each other that _they were here. _Maybe people will talk about the two girls from Lima, Ohio who managed to hold onto each other.

They'll promise at the start not to _lie_, not to _run_ and not to lose sight of the _things that matter._ During the days that seem to be made _just _to break them, Rachel and Quinn will stop and breathe. They'll look around and see the lives they've built together and it'll almost seem simple as _they choose love instead._

There are two parts to their story.

_In the public_, Rachel plays the hero, guardian and _the strong one. _With her experiences and knowledge, it's a reversal of their high school roles as Quinn follows her lead. The singer is patient as she shows the pianist how to respond to the cameras and ever present microphones. And like Quinn's guiding touches when she had taught Rachel pieces on the piano, the singer has a warm encouraging smile. As Rachel makes kind attempts to reduce Quinn's automatic and sarcastic rebuttals, there's nothing but an honest invitation to _join her world. _

_And behind closed doors, during sneaked cinema excursions and in the privacy of their homes, _the girls return to the roles that seemed so ingrained. They're simply two people in love, charmed, doting and hopeful. Often they'll end up in Quinn's bedroom in her new New York apartment. And even though they've never said so out loud the space is _entirely theirs_ without grand declarations of shared drawers and secondary key sets.

Rachel finds that, on the difficult days and tired evenings, Quinn always has a warm pot of tea ready by the stove. There's no push to talk. Wordlessly, the girls will continue their own tasks. Rachel would put her scarf and coat away and Quinn would head over to the piano in the center of the living room. Slowly, a tune plays in the background: sometimes it's an old familiar one and other times it's new. Either way, Rachel feels her eyes flutter closed. In those seconds, the weight lifts and she feels closer to her usual self. The sound of a romantic bridge or a charismatic spin on a common chorus manages to draw a soft smile to her face.

_These are the snippets of their lives that the world never finds out about. It is their best-kept secret_ _when others wonder about what makes them so special_.

So, with tightly held hands, caring smiles and _an unshakeable devotion, _they find pockets of time where they're alone and the defenses fall away. Despite the struggles faced, each glance is warmer and each touch is fonder. They're laughing as they get to be themselves, shedding the public skin and learning something new about each other.

/

The first time is an excuse, _a method_ _of escape_ from prying eyes and far too curious questions. After the initial barrage of interviews, the force of the opinions surprises the girls and they find that they just need a break. In a practiced motion, Rachel guides Quinn past the backdoor and bribes the security guards. She takes Quinn to an old dance studio in a neglected part of town. The rusted gates are barely a defense against anything except for the wayward piece of litter. In the beginning, Quinn finds herself wondering about the need for tetanus shots, but towards the end she'll understand Rachel's proud and warm expressions.

The most striking aspect is the inside. With laminated wooden floors and a high ballroom type ceiling, it's a direct contradiction of its outward appearance. Layers of peeling paint add the its character as various nicks and scuffs on the walls tell stories about its history and previous tenants. Images of young girls and boys come to mind, gleeful and in a rush to find art in their movements. There's a slight whipping sound as the outside wind manages to ruffle the ripped curtains, creating haphazard patterns on the bland walls. Quinn thinks that during the in between moments, the shadows almost looked like slow dancing marionettes and she can't help the slight sense of amazement.

It isn't until then that she notices Rachel. The brunette has shed her coat, in the beginnings of a leg stretch along the ballet bars. Dressed in an only an oversized sweater and simple black tights, the singer seems lost in her mind. Her hair is tied together in a loose bun as thin wisps fall beside her cheek, framing her face. Quinn finds herself unable to move, enamored by the image. She almost falls forward, feeling a need to touch what her eyes failed to do justice. A million photos still wouldn't be enough. But before she does, Rachel looks up, smiling gently as she walks to the blonde. She brushes her fingers down Quinn's arm, unaware of the tingles left in the wake of her touch. She'll hold the pianist's hands and leading them to the edge of the stage at the end of the room.

It's soft and leisurely, an exercise in slow exploration as Rachel leans in to kiss Quinn. There are no reporters and publicists, it's entirely quiet and if feels so familiar. The girls think that they can hear their hearts beating and a familiar giddiness that threatens to overwhelm. Whilst they were never going to be like _everyone else_, they realize that they could have _this_: _moments where the illusion of their own world gives them a chance to love and feel free._

Taking one last hungry press of their lips, Rachel steps back. She whispers that she wants to show Quinn something. In the end, there's no soundtrack but between the wind, the creaking floorboards and the tune in her mind, Rachel's body can feel the steps and movements. She finally understands Brittany passion for dance. At the start, it is slow. Rachel's arm is raised to the side in a perfect arch and she transitions into a balanced turn. The act causes a rebellious strand of hair to splay across her jawline but she's so lost into the moment, she barely cares. She glides across the floor, breaking into a jump. In the air, her legs part into straight lines and her arms are extended. It almost looks as if her hand is always reaching for something that wasn't there.

Quinn swallows thickly, trying to relieve the dryness in her mouth. There's no chill in the room and yet she can't stop trembling. It's gradual, but she starts to see the music in Rachel's motions. In less than a second, she confirms that the singer has always been her inspiration. And although, she feels naked without an instrument, Quinn can hear the music that should be playing in the background, _and with her voice, maybe she could hum it…_

Silently she'll slip off the stage, walking around the singer, careful not to intrude. Somehow, their talents merge effortlessly together. Quinn's light alto falls in line, complimenting and interpreting Rachel's every movement and flex of her thin muscles. Quinn will compose on the spot, translating her feelings into something tangible. During the process she finds a freedom absent from sessions of pen to paper, as each note is instinctual and the first to come to mind. Her voice builds when it needs to and easily carries the softer tones.

Between the strong purposeful arches and the fragile soft turns, Quinn actually stops breathing. She thinks that she _finally understands_ when she sees it: the grief and frustration that bleeds out of the singer. Each pirouette communicates a broken need to be left in peace, to be able to love without threat. The soft morning light bathes Rachel, highlighting the tension in her toned body and the tortured expressions in her face. There's no crafted response, no doublespeak to hide behind. And, Quinn finds that she just wants to be a part of it. She just wants to be there for Rachel, _with Rachel. _There's an emotion in the singer's dedicated movements that brings moisture to her eyes.

If she was being honest, Quinn has always thought that Rachel was beautiful. And then, there were unique moments where the combination of timing, lighting and the surroundings depicted the singer as a something more than the word beautiful_ could ever justifiably cover_. And in those instances, Quinn realizes that she'll never be able to walk away from this, she'll never quite move on from Rachel Berry.

She's roused out of her thoughts by the singer's voice. By now Rachel had finished, electing to simply walk around. She wears a strange combination of affection and respect as she touches the surfaces of the walls.

"You know I never could let go of this place."

Quinn meets Rachel's gaze, curiously tilting her head.

"Why?"

"This was my last performance before I became…"

Unable to find the words, Rachel pauses, her eyebrows furrow in thought. Eventually, she manages to utter.

"…Before everyone _knew me_."

There's a conflicted expression, as her eyes turn glassy. Sometimes, she'll wonder what it would be like if she didn't come to New York _and if she stayed with Quinn_. In her weak moments and after scathing comments by the media, Rachel sometimes thinks about what it would feel like to throw in the towel and by then it's far too easy for her memories to pull her back. She's taken back to times where happiness was scarce and isolation seemed like the only thing that existed.

However, _this time_ Quinn is her tether. The pianist brings Rachel into an embrace and somehow through soft touches and searing kisses, their nerves begin to fade. It's suddenly easier to speak, _easier to breathe and_ Rachel is able to explain.

"The weeks leading up to Julliard's graduation I was so anxious. I couldn't really _do_ anything. I mean, I had been to countless auditions for off-Broadway and record productions. And I got nothing. I was either too strong, to small or too _inexperienced_ for the part."

All too quickly, the comments of the directors, choreographers and panelists come to mind.

"So I told Brittany that I was tired of it all; after losing you and having to forge a new life in New York alone. It seemed too hard. I mean, if I was _talented_ enough, _pretty_ enough and if I was _really meant for this_, it shouldn't make me feel so…I don't know, _hopeless…"_

Quinn doesn't know how to answer and she can't control the sadness that seeps into her eyes. Instead, she simply tightens her grip around Rachel, hoping that her presence now could still soothe old scars. And it's in that imperfect gesture of understanding that Rachel feels_ heard_.

The subtle changes in the pianist gaze communicate similar thoughts and Rachel thinks that she recognizes the emotions. They had been two trains on parallel tracks. In her college years, Quinn couldn't understand why something she had strived so hard for, an education she thought she wanted _could bring so little joy_. And Rachel, she found herself lost _and looking for reasons to fail_.

The experiences that _should_ have been shared together forced the girls to grow up in ways that were unexpected. After missing so much, sometimes they question if they can keep up. They're certainly ready to fight for it. Rachel cups Quinn's jaw, holding the pianist's gaze. In such unguarded sessions, there's a softness in the blonde's features that seems especially reserved for her. And under such adoring attention, Quinn clears her throat gently. She could be the prettiest girl in the world, but she can't fathom when only one person's opinion began to matter.

"So what happened?"

Rachel smiles at the attempt to move the conversation along. Almost as if caught in a haze, she turns around in Quinn's arms to place a slow kiss to the corner of the blonde's mouth.

Then, there's a pause. The blonde's eyes are shut and her lips are slightly parted. There's a blush making itself known along her cheekbones and it takes a second for her to capture the feeling. Rachel simply continues to draw circles on the inside of the delicate pale wrists and when Quinn returns, she is happy to answer. In the process, they understand with perfect clarity what _adolescent butterfly feelings had become_.

"Brittany did."

The response comes out in a slow exhale. Rachel shakes her head to herself, reliving the memory. She doesn't know why she needs to tell Quinn any of this, but whatever this was, and whatever they have… _it really is everything. _

It hurts. It's hard and it's the only real thing that _makes them happy_. So they'll stay, they'll give it all they have and maybe they'll discover that even when they were bruised and battered, _they were never quite broken. _Rachel wants to share every major moment in her life and Quinn is content to listen. Love finds a niche in the words they say and the touches they make.

"Funnily enough, Brittany could be patient through me being a zombie, me _yelling_ at her to go away and me _coming home _at late hours. But…when I said I wanted to give up, I think that was that first time that I've ever seen her _angry."_

Part of her is still surprised. Rachel still finds it sad that the three pillars of McKinley's popularity, _the unholy trinity_ were perhaps the most misunderstood. For all the complaints and slushies, those others in the glee club had always had the opportunity to be themselves. They had been proud in their opinions, fashion and talents. Yet the girls that ruled, that played the harsh roles of protector, leader and past villains felt that they couldn't share that they might be more than a cheerleading uniform.

However during senior year when high school rules became blurry and lines got mismatched, Rachel was given a glimpse. When Quinn began to call her by her _first name_ and that quiet affection found its way into hazel eyes, the singer was given a chance to realize it all. Rachel wears a thoughtful look as she continues.

"That night, Brittany dragged me out of our apartment without letting me change out of pajamas and drove me here. Did you know that she was teaching a bunch of inner city kids how to dance ballet?"

For a moment Rachel looks away, almost a little exasperated.

"I didn't... But, she showed me. She told me to dance with them in their small production and that if I couldn't find the fun afterwards, she'd let me go. She'd help me pack and drive me back to Lima."

Quinn doesn't say a thing, raising her eyebrows. However, it's not in surprise as a kind look appears on her face.

Brittany S. Pierce had always had an affinity towards children, not because of any large lapse in intelligence or decision making capacity. Instead, the dancer had always just found comfort and familiarity in childlike _methods_ of thinking, where the first conclusion made isn't always the scariest. Brittany believed that people were never as trusting or as open as when they're young and that it is such a hopeless _tragedy_ when those qualities disappear with age. So, she loved to _immerse_ herself in their innocent thoughts and ideas, and maybe also managing to share some of her own.

Still, Quinn recognizes the changes in her tall friend and she figures that Santana does as well. For as much as Brittany helped Rachel, the singer was perhaps the bigger teacher. In having to take care of Rachel and be the one to have the clear mind, Brittany had matured. She learned the responsibilities that Quinn and Santana had protected her from and somehow became better and more comfortable at translating her intelligence into something graspable.

Rachel's voice comes out softly.

"But, I remembered, you know. Somehow joining them in their plié and pirouettes, I _felt like me again. _I remembered what I wanted and, _what you gave us up for…_"

Quinn breathes in sharply. Her heart quickens and she tries to keep the tears from her eyes. Not needing to question the sudden change, Rachel squeezes the pianist's hands and looks into hazel eyes. There's nothing but appreciation and affection in her actions. It had taken her a while but she had eventually understood Quinn's choices that night. She might not have agreed with them but she could see the reasoning. Sometimes, during long nights in distant cities, the realization that it had all been for _her_ and her aspirations, had been the thought that kept the fractured pieces of her heart together. And with that, Rachel had fallen a little deeper.

"Broadway. _It was still the dream."_

A pain lodges itself in Quinn's throat and she _tries to be strong._ Instead, her mind travels back to a discussion had with Leroy Berry.

_Do you think that she'll ever forgive me_?

Quinn recalls the importance in that answer. Leroy had been hesitant to cast decisions and give false hope. But he knew his daughter well and he thought that Rachel's feelings for the pianist would weather through the heartbreak and temporary confusion. He thought that his daughter would want to see Quinn again and finish their lives with emotions that got them here.

Rachel pulls Quinn to the wall beside them. Her hand travels to the back of the pianist neck, making calm circles. There's a natural tendency for their heads to move closer and be in shared space. When there's less than centimeters between them, sensations are enhanced and pulses run so much faster. Rachel is a little shy; their lips almost brush as she speaks.

"Brittany did this thing where she told the kids to scribble their goals, the one thing that _they wanted most_ onto the wall behind you. She said that it would be their _magic wall_, that once they wrote it down, with hard work it could come true."

The singer steps back, never leaving contact with the pianist. She tilts her head and smiles in an unspoken invitation. As Rachel's presence untangles itself from her senses, Quinn takes a moment to orientate herself before turning around. The many distinct scrawl-like carvings surprise her. In the wake of the many dreams filling the length of the wall, the blonde is honored and a little blown away. Her fingers follow some statements wondering how far each person had gotten; _to win record deal, to buy mom a house, to make something that matters._ She thinks that she understands why Rachel finds a sanctuary in this place as the singer's voice makes it to Quinn's ear.

"Brittany made me do it as well. She said it be good for me, like how cutting your hair was good for you."

A shiver floods Quinn's body at the proximity, it's a challenge to keep her thoughts pure but the implication of the words makes it through. When she's brave enough to look up, Rachel has left her side and stands at the end of the wall, staring intently at the corner. Quinn has never been so afraid to trust her sight before. She has 20-20 vision but the words depicted still seem hazy, muddled by the warm tear that slips down her cheek.

_Quinn Fabray's Forever._

The one phrase is neatly etched, _distinct_ in a background of childish handwriting. Quinn can't help but bow her head as a wave of warmth hits her. _One, two, three: _she takes short, concise breaths just enough to keep her stable and _composed_. She honestly tries, because she never imagined that she could be this person. After her past and _her_ choices, she didn't think she could still be the girl who could be caught off-guard by romantic gestures _and someone that loves her._

"Rachel…"

The name slips from her lips. With hazel eyes still widened in surprise, Quinn hopes that her feelings bleed through her expressions because around the singer eloquence seems to take a leave of absence. But Rachel doesn't mind, she simply smiles and walks back to the blonde.

"I thought she expected me to write Broadway or something, but when I wrote this, Brittany just smiled as if she knew it all along."

Taking Quinn's hands in hers, she leans close. Their eyes lock and if it's possible they make the decision to love over everything else; _to keep each other safe and always choose each other. _Rachel's words are sweet, quiet and sincere.

"_I want this._ And as difficult as all this is, I want your forever Quinn because, you've always held mine. It's too early for marriage and there's still so much to get through, but you're the only person I want to even consider when the time comes."

Quinn takes a trembling breath as her hand finds its place to Rachel's neck, caressing in the direction of the singer's jaw. With raised hairs and fluttering pulses both of their eyes shut tight at the feeling and in that second, _everything registers. _They can hear the background cars and birds outside of the studio, they can feel the warmth and electricity travelling between their skin and they can imagine the future…

_Unmistakably, the answer is yes. _

Quinn wants to make Rachel's rough days better. She doesn't want the singer to feel like a gypsy between nights on tour because now the pianist can be the one waiting in the bus, in the hotel rooms and in their apartment in New York. Quinn wants to entertain with sarcastic comments and the small dates that they can get away with. During those moments, they'll bribe the local establishment, buy a carton of vegan-friendly ice cream and dance the night away. _They'll be unafraid._

And, Rachel wants to sing all of Quinn's songs. She wants to talk to the blonde about philosophy and nothing at all until their voices are hoarse and they're still not sick of each other. On nights of bad weather, Rachel wants to wrap her arms around Quinn. They'll never say it out loud but it's what the pianist needs. A secret only they know, because despite her independent persona, Quinn hates lightning and thunder, and _she needs a little help during the storms_.

In the end, it is their brand of forever and they are done waiting…

/

The second time they break away from the world is after a particularly bad interview. Despite the warning and practice provided by Santana, the reality of it all was a constant reminder that their relationship was unconventional and carried far more responsibility than simply to each other.

Some people claimed that they were pioneers, _role models_ for those in a similar situation. That somehow, the strength of their attachment could pave the way for a brave new world. And with plenty of parents, media outlets and psychologists dissecting their actions and dialogues, the girls were _told_ whether the world thought them as _sincere or not_. They were _told_ to expect difficulties and challenges, as their odds of survival are tallied up for everyone to see.

The one thing that they weren't warned of was the topic of Beth. Maybe they had been too naïve, thinking that because months had passed without incident that the media wouldn't exploit that part of their lives. They were wrong…

It's on a live national broadcast, when the pointed questions are asked and the blood drains from Quinn's face. Regret and guilt comes in waves as the pianist silently removes the portable microphone from her shirt and runs out of the studio. There's a silence as nobody knows how to respond and it's possible that even the presenter realizes the lines crossed because the she finishes the interview early. She catches Rachel's furious gaze as she lets the singer chase after Quinn.

In the city that never sleeps, finding one person seems like an impossible task. Rachel, in her worry and concern can barely think straight. However, when Santana takes her aside to remind her that she was Quinn's exception, Rachel thinks she _understands_. She makes arrangements and sees a few people, as her mind and body goes on autopilot until she's standing in the doorway roof access from their apartment. Quinn sits in a wooden chair brought up from the kitchen, a safe distance from the ledge and overlooking the sunset. There's an orange glow accentuating her features.

"I'm sorry."

The two simple words, don't feel like enough as Rachel wrings her fingers. There's a spare chair next to the blonde, but the singer is rooted to her spot, feeling undeserving. Watching the back of Quinn's shoulders rise and drop in a sigh, it's hard to resist the urge to be on her knees begging for forgiveness.

"Are we ever going to stop?"

Quinn's husky voice asks, an obvious sign that she's been crying. It almost cripples Rachel when the blonde stands and turns around, because the longing and pain in those hazel eyes is _devastating_. The rest of the pianist's expression is blank and despondent. Both girls try not to flinch at the distance between them. It felt unnatural, but neither can bring themselves to make the first step towards each other. So, instead Rachel responds with a confused question.

"Stop what?"

There's a pause. Quinn feels cold and looks away before responding.

"_Being sorry_."

There is no bitterness in her tone, just an apathetic curiosity. Rachel's back straightens. She doesn't have an answer because sometimes she asks herself the same question.

"_I hope so..."_

Quinn's eyes flicker slightly at the honesty in the singer's voice and it's the first sign that things will be all right. Despite her crossed arms and guarded expression, she's hasn't walked away. She had taken a second chair to the roof and she had _waited_ with the very knowledge that Rachel would come. It reminds her that the time they've spent together isn't in waste: that the happiness was there and now they just had to be willing to put in a little more work. Quinn recalls Rachel's scrunched nose as she tried to introduce street vendor food into the singer's diet. It wasn't successful by any means with long spiels about bacteria and cleanliness but she had enjoyed it all the same. She thinks she fell a little more in love with the Rachel that afternoon.

"I didn't do this behind your back or to hurt you."

Rachel finally manages to say. _There it was_, the real reason why the studio had suddenly felt suffocating. Quinn recalls the flash of panic and unfounded sense of betrayal when the interviewer had flashed that picture of Rachel and a much older Beth on the background screens. They seemed so _happy_; Beth was in the singer's arms in what seemed like a mid spin. Quinn didn't even have to look up to know that there would be guilt all over Rachel's face. Maybe it was her mistake when she had just shut down and left. But then again, did it matter that she was trying to do the right thing? For whatever would've come out of her mouth certainly wouldn't have been kind. And in her indecision and screwed up emotions, the one thing that still seemed to make sense was that she didn't want to hurt Rachel, _not accidentally or on purpose._

Standing on the roof now, the pianist finds her skin itchy and uncomfortable, she tried not to think about Beth over the years. She promised herself that she could _leave it alone_, let her _daughter_ live a happy oblivious life with Shelby, _untainted by her old transgressions_. The woman for all her shortcomings as Rachel's biological mother seemed so eager and devoted to making Beth's childhood different. But then, there were rare instances where Quinn would feel like something was missing and she'd remember what Beth had felt like in her arms. Those rushes of feeling would be so intense and abrupt that it would almost feel like an attack. Seeing Rachel in front of her now, Quinn doesn't know if she's simply envious of the opportunities that Rachel has had, knowing and getting along with Beth or if she's just angry for being kept in the dark. However, in the current scene, the singer looks so _contrite_ and on the verge of falling apart. She _cares so much_ about the pianist and Quinn swallows. Before they both notice, they've made their way across the distance and the blonde has Rachel wrapped tightly in her arms. Their eyes are shut, lending strength and whispered assurances as they silently promise not to let go.

Eventually, Rachel pulls back to say.

"She's my adoptive sister."

Quinn's jaw clench as she tries to keep her front. She doesn't want to think about it anymore. She just wants to be _happy_. However, Rachel sees through it all and she _could_ stop. They could retire to their apartment with a warm blanket and a romantic comedy. Today's events would be overlooked. But, Rachel needs Quinn to understand why she did it. In the end, that might the only thing that matters. So with an imploring tone and a pleading grip on Quinn's hand, Rachel tries to explain.

"She's Shelby's daughter. And…she's _yours."_

The way the singer whispers that last word is undoubtedly heartbreaking. Rachel presses their foreheads together and tries to keep the tears from her voice.

"…I couldn't _not _know her…"

When Rachel had first started out in New York, she had been fractured and depressed. Shelby, who lived in the city at the time reached out. And between those conversations with a woman that _could have,_ in another world, been her mother, Rachel found some understanding. Shelby was shocked when she had first heard about Quinn and Rachel. She couldn't see it but as their coffee meetings continued and Rachel's smile seemed to exist solely to talk about the blonde, _she does. _And honestly, Shelby had no idea what she was doing when she asked Rachel if she wanted to meet Beth.

The singer was unsure at the beginning, but tears streamed down her cheeks when she had first met the girl who had grown to be a replica of what Quinn would have looked at age of three. Somehow, it helped. Rachel got to know her sister and that tenuous connection to the girl that she loved was enough to help keep her head above the water. Throughout the years, it was more or less a success. Rachel spoiled Beth and Beth looked up to Rachel. They argued over certain things like any other sibling. And through the young girl's resemblance, Rachel felt as if _like she hadn't quite lost Quinn yet_…

The pianist's eyes soften. They wanted a part of each other in their lives, even when they thought that they wouldn't end up together. Somehow by chance events and changed trajectories, the notion of each other became almost essential to their concepts of _living, loving and surviving. _The only difference is that the girls are ready to admit it now.

Quinn kisses each of Rachel's knuckles reverently. And she gets it. She's the same. Without Rachel's voice on the radio and face on television screens, Quinn imagines that she'd be a lot more wrecked, _disconnected_ in a way that no amount of alcohol and time spent around a piano could solve.

There's just a lingering question on her mind.

"Tell me something, is she happy? Does she have everything that Puck and I wanted for her?"

Rachel's face crumples in relief. There's a quiet desperation in the blonde's voice that makes her answer carefully and thoughtfully.

"Yes, I think she does."

With that simple statement, Quinn feels at peace in a way she could never manage before. She feels freer in her emotions as she looks up to the sky. She's grateful that _some_ things turned out right, _that she had done the best thing for Beth._ And she's so thankful for Rachel. Quinn _still_ has a million walls and ways to run away from her emotions. But Rachel is a persistent catalyst for the pianist's transformations, pushing her into someone different, better and _someone that would actually stay. _

And Quinn has every confidence that she would, you know… _stay. _She'll be with Rachel even when all her automatic defenses scream to run away. Looking into each other's eyes, the girls are certain that it _must be love. _So even if they are a little strained in the current setting, there's nothing but fondness and a desire to progress and make everything better. The pianist would write every serenade and Rachel would sing any lullaby. Quinn's not sure when they got to feeling like this, but she'll trust Rachel through every misunderstanding, fight and tragedy. She'll let Rachel save her till they're old, and even then; _she'll still be Rachel's misfit lover to fix. _

Rachel bites her lip, adorably. She opens her mouth and stops, hesitant. The question ends up coming out in a hurried rush.

"Do you want to meet her?"

Quinn tenses and for a second, Rachel is worried, unsure of her decision. The blonde becomes trapped in her panicked thoughts and expectations. But perhaps there's a sliver of hope in hazel eyes that only Rachel can see, because she continues.

"Shelby was supposed to visit me anyway. After the interview, I called her and _she brought Beth along." _

For a moment, there's just the sound of fast breathing. Rachel reaches out to brush a wayward leaf from Quinn's hair; she's perpetually stunned by how pretty the blonde really is, that she needs a second to formulate her responses. She'll furrow her brows as she realizes that she wants everything for the girl in front of her. However for all her _successes_ and _supposed resources_, Rachel is terrified by the idea that she could be part of the problem. And sometimes, she really doesn't know how to stand beside Quinn, because the singer knows that she's selfish. She'd rather focus on righting every other wrong than consider that she might not be the best person for the pianist.

_But now_, Quinn looks at Rachel in a way that is different from High School, as if their relationship was _the dream that was_ _already here_. She holds the singer's hand like the ground would come apart if they let go, promising that she'll go with Rachel anywhere. So in the current setting, they'll forget the situation and Rachel can't bring herself to feel guilty.

She tilts Quinn's head down, meeting her gaze. There's a caring smile as she lovingly tells the pianist.

"Beth _wants_ to meet you. She _asked_ to see you."

And Quinn remembers to take deep breaths. She can't control the sob that erupts from her throat and she's never been so afraid. Would Beth think badly of her? Would Beth understand? Could Beth ever love her?

It would be so easy to let her mind drift away: become pulled apart by the mistakes and uncertainties. Like a drug, she could let herself be distracted by oblivion. Quinn lets out a snicker. Sometimes, she hated growing up; she _hated dealing with her past_. Between a broken household and mixed-up priorities, there wasn't much to say. She didn't know what she could give Beth. However, Rachel was the one thing that Quinn did right and maybe the singer could find something in her to be proud of. So, Quinn will nod and watch as a look of encouragement crosses Rachel's features. Before the singer reaches the door, Quinn reaches out to grab Rachel's slender wrist. Her voice is weak, soft and uncharacteristically _vulnerable_.

"Rachel, will you…Can you stay here with me, with us? It's just, this is my first time seeing her since…"

Rachel nods, smiling brilliantly. Closing her eyes, Quinn lets the singer's enthusiasm wash over her. The brunette takes a last long caring glance at her girlfriend and is _fiercely loyal_ in her response.

"I'll be here, Quinn_. I will."_

Quinn doesn't believe a lot of people when they tell her that things will be all right. She didn't, when her teachers at Bellevue said that things would get better. She didn't, when Mr Schue went on and on about how special they all were. And she didn't when the nurse who came in to take Beth away told her that it only hurts for a little while.

_But, Quinn believes Rachel…_

/

"Hi."

A delicate voice calls from the door. It's shy, quiet and hopeful.

Quinn stops, not sure how to turn around. Gradually, she hears the sounds of familiar high heels approach and a warm hand rests reassuringly on her lower back before slipping around to her stomach. The pianist has her eyes closed, leans back into the touch. Rachel hugs Quinn from behind, waiting for the tension to dissipate from taut muscles. She promises herself that she can be strong enough for the both of them. There's no pressure to hurry but Quinn feels calmer as she moves meets the young voice.

There's a _nine-year-old girl. _She's has long blonde hair that seems to curl a little at the ends. A tentative nod is given. It belies the sense of curiosity and confidence that brought her here. She doesn't have a cheerios uniform or Brittany and Santana as backup, but Beth's without fear as she stares at Quinn.

"Hello Beth."

It's a whisper, as the pianist tries to come up with something more to say. She'll let moisture cloud her eyesight and _before everything blurs completely_, Quinn thinks that she sees Beth _smile_. It's like looking into a mirror but not quite. Beth is taller than Quinn was at that age, courtesy of Puck the pianist supposes. The young girl stands straighter, her features quietly defiant and assured of her place in the world. She won't be swayed by the opinions of others. Quinn lets out a small laugh_, badass _would be the term that Puck and Santana would use_. _Yet beyond all of that, Beth wears an argyle sweater and holds a music book from an old Broadway classic, _Les Miserables_.

The pianist breaks into an honest grin, not sure whether or not to ask Rachel about it. It's strange but she's not put off by the eccentric fashion addition, thinking that it appears alarmingly sweet on the young girl. Her hand tightens in Rachel's, and for a second, nothing feels out of place. Quinn thinks that whilst she might not have been at Beth's first day of school or helped teach her how to ride a bike, undoubtedly the beautiful girl _has a part of her_. Maybe it was just genetics, pale skin and striking cheekbones, but Quinn was able to contribute to something _perfect_. And now, she's given the chance to know whom she created. Rachel's presence managed tie the fractured part of her life together.

"Is it true that you named me after a … song?"

Beth asks, with a familiar-looking head tilt. Quinn nods slowly, remembering the event, how the boys of New Direction sat on stools and sang a song, knowing that it meant everything.

"Yeah it was Puck's, your father's idea. We thought it would suit."

Despite her appearance and _still a child_, Beth tries to appear nonchalant and what she believed a mature response would look like. She tries not to show how desperate she is for the information and how much she wanted to get to know Quinn. She had, ever since Rachel first talked about the girl that had her heart.

"Cool."

"Do you like it?"

Quinn asks softly. It's unnerving but she finds herself able to read Beth's stoic mask, _it was so much like her own. _Convincing the first few times, but vulnerability managed to slip out in between moments of indecision. Quinn maintains their distance, not wanting to make the girl nervous. For the most part though, Beth doesn't seem to notice as she thinks on the question. She had never thought about it, the name had always just been there. Shelby had told her that it was a gift from her biological parents. Beth didn't understand back then, but listening to Quinn now, she thinks that she might. She recognizes that _so much thought_ was placed on that _one thing_; it had been an attempt of Puck and Quinn's at caring, at a connection.

So, she's thoughtful in her response. It begins objectively but the young girl finds her truths naturally coming out.

"Beth is a shortened from of Elisabeth or Bethany. In Hebrew, did you know that Beth means _home_? You and Puck, even if you don't want to see me again, I want to thank you. I want you to know that by giving me away, you _gave_ me a home…_I do like the name. Thank you. "_

Rachel reaches over to rub Beth's shoulders encouragingly. She's so proud of her sister, knowing that the girl was perhaps far more levelheaded than most at her age. Rachel thinks that Quinn will be so happy to know that Beth is already in advanced placement classes. She can't wait for Quinn to see the shelves of academic, gymnastic and band awards in Beth's room. There's so much that Quinn can still have and all Rachel wants to do is help, to be a source of support, loving and _lasting. _This was the long haul.

Beth watches how Quinn and Rachel interact, a little in awe. She's seen the Disney movies and read the fairytale storybooks, gossiping with her friends about what love would be like. But, in the present, she realizes that it isn't a big production. Instead, it's a quiet emotion that underlies every small action and attempt at closeness. Quinn has Rachel in mind, _first and foremost_. But sometimes, something unexpected happens and naturally, Rachel slips to second: _like now_. And unlike in temporary relationships or a passing crush, it's not a problem because _Rachel doesn't mind_. They'll hold onto the same values and faith in each other.

Beth clears her throat.

"Rachel told me that you were pretty, that you had perfect hazel eyes like me."

Quinn eyes sparkle with mirth as she turns to glance at the singer. Rachel feels the redness settling in her cheeks. Quinn shakes her head kissing Rachel's temple, before returning her attention to Beth.

"She did?"

Beth grins, nodding happily. She tries not to laugh at how Rachel resembles a tomato. She tries not to giggle at Quinn's joking wink. For a moment, they just enjoy banding together. But afterwards, the seriousness returns and they both note the truth in their statements. Beth takes a step forward, closely analyzing Quinn's appearance.

"Yeah, she's right. Yours is greener but we have the same yellowish flecks. It's nice. Your hair's like mine too, though I will never cut it short. It'll be too much like a boy."

Beth has a scrunched nose at the idea. She loved her golden locks and couldn't imagine anything else. Quinn laughs softly. She doesn't know how to tell Beth that she'll never be mistaken for that, already _just a little too pretty_. In the simplicity of the conversation, they forget that this is their first meeting. It feels like something that they've been doing all along.

Beth feels a rush of comfort. She furrows her brows, wondering about the events that lead to this.

"So you love Rachel huh?"

Quinn inhales sharply, and even Rachel seems to be surprised, directing a stern gaze at the young girl. The pianist watches, amused by Rachel's protective gesture. Quinn releases her breath and finally answers.

"Yeah. What do you think about it?"

Beth shrugs, answering as if it wasn't a big deal.

"I love Rachel too."

There's a silence. Smiling at the response, Quinn and Rachel wait. In seconds, Beth's face scrunches up comically as she's in a hurry correct.

"Probably not in the same way, though."

The young girl takes another moment to reflect before speaking.

"I think that you make Rachel happy. Rachel is my big sister. And you're … Quinn, my biological _mom_. I think that it is good that you make each other happy."

Rachel lets out a long 'awww' before opening her arms to bring Beth into a tight and suffocating hug. Beth, for her part seems to notice the playful mocking behind the gesture and enthusiastically begins her escape. Rachel ends up chasing the young girl across the roof, letting out squeals and frustrated foot stomps during the almost wins. Throughout the night, their laughter is contagious and Quinn shakes her head at their antics. As a child, she never imagined her future like this. She never imagined _Rachel_. But, she's learning to.

Quinn will let herself be dragged into the circus as the singer demands help from an _athletic person _in between exaggerated breathlessness. It's a barely disguised inclusion tactic but as Beth's smile seems to light up, _it is appreciated._

Towards the end of the day, Quinn is in the kitchen making hot chocolate when she looks up and becomes captivated. Rachel and Beth are sitting at her piano, playing a string of duets and engaged an affectionate competition of sorts. Beth has an arm across her stomach in a full-bodied laugh as Rachel raises her arms in surrender and starts a tickle war instead. It's a perfect picture of domesticity.

"I think Beth got that from you, you know."

Shelby's speaks from the open doorway. She walks to the stool near the island and gestures in question to the empty seat. Quinn nods in invitation, unsure in the woman's presence. They hadn't spoken since that night in the hospital as they shared a moment of motherhood looking out to Beth through large glass windows. Quinn takes a moment to properly look at the woman. Shelby seemed older, tired from the years. Her sharpness had long since been sanded down as she followed the direction of Quinn's previous gaze. A soft smile descends and she's really not the same person. She's not the vocal coach of Carmel High or the regretful mother desperate to mend what was broken with a lost daughter. Shelby's just happy and for once, Quinn doesn't have to wonder what that feels like. They let themselves get carried away by the two most important people in their lives.

Not quite willing to interrupt Rachel and Beth, Shelby continues to explain.

"I was never any good at the piano. I mean, I knew how to play, but singing was more my passion."

Quinn nods in understanding. She marvels in the determination in Beth's frame when the young girl's fingers flitted across the keys. There were a few mistakes in her technique, but perhaps this was something Quinn could help with. Maybe it was their connection. Quietly, Quinn voice shakes with emotion.

"Thank you."

"For what?"

Shelby asks. Quinn tears her attention away from Beth and Rachel, holding the older woman's gaze. She _needs_ to say this.

"For keeping your promise and being a good mother. For being _Beth's mom_."

Shelby's eyes soften and for a second Quinn sees where Rachel gets that look from.

"Is it something that you'd consider again?"

Shelby asks and Quinn pauses, caught off guard. She thinks about the future and what she and Rachel still had to face. After having Beth, _despite_ how perfect the young girl had turned out to be, Quinn hadn't let herself think about having any more children. The reminder was too painful. However, they had grown up and gotten past their mistakes. And watching how Rachel interacted so warmly and fluently with Beth, a flawless combination of Quinn's exterior and the singer's vocabulary tendencies, warmth settles in the pianist's chest. A hopeful smile graces her features. _And, Quinn thinks that with time and Rachel, she might…_

/

The third time is after a Hollywood party, honoring Rachel's 27th birthday. There are record executives, talent agents and _so many other celebrities_. With the exits blanketed by flashing lights from large cameras the whole world hovers outside of the function hall.

Rachel wears a long strapless silk dress; the lighter tones a contrast on tanned skin. Quinn remembers having the air taken from her lungs. She remembers how Brittany kindly took the flute of champagne from her trembling hands and Santana's insistent shove forward as Rachel slowly descended the spiral staircase. In a room full of important people, Rachel and Quinn's attention stay only with each other. Hazel and warm brown eyes meet. The pianist would tilt her head and smile in a way that tells the singer that she's nothing short of beautiful and that Quinn's so captivated she doesn't quite know how to move yet. The singer would look away with reddening cheeks and bashful reaction. She'll never get used to Quinn's compliments, _she never wants to_.

Only then, will the image register. Quinn wore a one-shouldered grey-blue dress, accentuating her taller stature and thin waist. Light-makeup brings out the intensity in her eyes and highlights the simplicity of her refined features. Rachel has never really had time to appreciate paintings but she thinks that Quinn is DaVinci's dream and Michelangelo's inspiration: pretty, elegant and unparalleled.

Throughout the evening, Rachel will want to say all these things but she won't get the chance. At every turn, someone asking for her attention, statement or presence will stop her. It seems like an impossible path to Quinn. And, Rachel _tries to be polite_. She'll try to get through the lines of friends, fans and company bigwigs because _despite Santana's consternation_, she has never quite developed to ability to ignore people and walk away. She couldn't stand the crestfallen expression and hurt glances. However tonight, it's the first time that she feels as if a gun is being put to her head.

During brief moments of freedom, Rachel might look up and she'll catch Quinn's gaze. They'll smile softly and they'll be across the room from each other. _But, in that second?_ It won't feel like it. If she tries, Rachel thinks that she can feel the pianist's fingers drawing promises on her palms and Quinn thinks that she can feel Rachel's lingering kiss on her cheek. Somehow, it's enough even when it shouldn't be.

By the end, Rachel will be alone. As the guests have left and the caterers begin clearing the floor, Rachel will collapse into a chair at an empty table. She'll be destroyed by the fact that she hadn't talked to Quinn at all that evening. She'll feel remorseful as the pianist seemed to still want to _try_ and make her way to Rachel throughout the crowd and _throughout the evening_. Hazel eyes would lose a bit of spark every time Quinn failed.

So, Rachel isn't in the mood to care when a shadow stands in front of her. She waves her hand tiredly and dismissively the interruption, content to wallow.

"Look, I'm really not in the mood. I just need some time alone."

"Ok. Are you sure? Probably, a good thing I haven't lit this yet then..."

Frozen, Rachel refuses to look up, so afraid that the pianist's voice would just be a manifestation of her depressed state of mind.

A bewildered Quinn frowns to herself as she looks at the box in her hand: twenty-seven cupcakes in a celebration and a confession. She had been surprised when she had returned to an empty room, still unaccustomed to the hours kept by the busy and the famous. But seeing how Rachel head remained downcast, Quinn can only worry about how long the singer has been alone. Carefully, she places the deserts on the table behind, squatting down in front of the singer. Ever so kindly, she grazes Rachel's cheek with her fingers moving down to tilt the singer's chin up. Distraught brown eyes bore into hers. And, when Rachel finally _sees Quinn_, she begins to cry.

The pianist's face falls in concern. She uses one hand to settle around her girlfriend's waist and the other to bring Rachel head to her shoulder flush into a close embrace. For a second, it's like the first time in a New York hotel room, during Nationals where everyone else has left and Quinn is the one that's stays:_ comforting and protective_. Now, despite the blonde's confusion, her heart breaks a little when the warm tears hit her skin.

"Hey. _Hey_. Rachel, don't worry about it. Are you all right?"

"_I thought you left…"_

The barely there whimper makes it to her ears as Rachel's small frame shakes. There's a pause as everything sinks in. Sadness takes Quinn's expression and she can only shrug softly. She tries to make her voice light and she tries so desperately to be reassuring.

"I did. I thought you'd prefer cupcakes from that place down the street from Allison's more than whatever I could come up with."

There's a playful depreciation in Quinn's tone that breaks through the thoughts clouding the singer's mind. When Rachel looks up, Quinn will smile gently, relieved to see warm brown eyes again. She lets her hand rest on the singer's cheek as her thumb draws small circles. She'll never be empathic like Brittany, but perhaps Quinn has always had a little too much trouble ignoring Rachel because there's moisture in her eyes as well as she chokes out.

"You were always the baker out of the two of us."

Rachel finds herself smiling as she shakes her head exasperatedly at the memories, fun afternoons in the kitchen with chocolate icing and attempts at perfect lettering. But…_she sobers up_. She realizes that something that used to seem so natural, an irreplaceable personality quirk, _like other things_ had gotten buried in all the bright lights and big city. In the past, it had been worth it and she worked so _hard to get here_. It was never something in question. So, it'll be quietly shocking as the truth of what she says next frightens her.

"You know none of this means anything you know. I would give it all away tomorrow if it meant choosing you."

Rachel looks around the room hollowly, avoiding Quinn's piercing gaze. She doesn't want the pianist to see her when she's like this: weak and doubtful of the gold star next to her name. And maybe after having to be so confident and capable for the people who adored her, Rachel has finally reached her breaking point.

In the silence, Rachel doesn't want to disappoint and Quinn doesn't know how to tell her that _she never could. _The pianist speaks tentatively.

"Thank you Rachel… for saying that, _but… you're wrong you know_."

The blonde tilts her head, waiting for the singer to pay attention. Quinn grins when Rachel does. She can't help it; the singer has always had an effect. She'll start slow. She'll continue until Rachel is convinced and reminded.

"This… It means _everything. _Everything about what happened tonight is a part of who you are."

The singer opens her mouth to interrupt but she's stopped by the softness of Quinn's lips. The pianist tongue traces the seam of Rachel's, asking for a chance. It's given. The kiss is sweet and slow, they'll need each other too much to break apart completely. So, barely a hairs width apart, Quinn has a strong grip on Rachel's hand as she whispers determinedly.

"Rachel, you're the girl who's holds everyone attention. You're the girl who will stay until even _the last fan_ in line receives a little bit of your time. And you're _Rachel Barbra Berry_, maybe even Berry-Fabray someday, if I'm lucky..."

It still hurts to smile, but Rachel can't help but be charmed by Quinn's words. She will be comforted by the knowledge that the pain isn't forever. She can't wait for the day when they're both _lucky._

Somehow, she manages to say.

"I love you Quinn, _so much_. Why doesn't any of this bother you?"

There's a moment as Quinn is thoughtful. She'll think of the cleverest, _most poetic things_ to say but the words that escape her lips are anything but.

"Because you're mine."

Quinn doesn't take it back, even when the singer stops breathing for a second. Instead she'll try to explain.

"And when I say that, it's not a possessive term or anything like that. But, you're a part of my worldview, my hopes for a future."

Attentively, Quinn presses her lips to Rachel's when the singer begins to get embarrassed.

"I'm the one you _come home to_."

She'll let this noses touch in butterfly kisses when Rachel's doubtful.

"I'm the one that will _always wait for you_."

And she'll keep them breathing the same air until the singer is _on the verge of believing: persistent and dedicated to the let-go._

"So Rachel, you can sing to the millions and for the movies, you can pretend to be in love with a few, but I'm _not_ worried and I'm _not_ scared."

Under the force of Quinn's conviction, Rachel finds herself nodding. Her heart races just a little too fast and their anxieties don't feel so overwhelming. They'll share the same thoughts and feelings as the last words fall peacefully into the conversation.

"Out of all the people in the world, I still can't believe that you chose to love me."

That night, home finds _them._ Keys are hastily turned in locks and the lure of romantic nightlights barely reaches their notice. All they can think about is _the next moment_, as a hand makes a slow graze to the side and lips burn a trail downwards. Dresses fall to the floor, eagerly removed and easily _forgotten_. Their path is a mixture of fumbles and frantic movements, but somehow they'll keep each other upright and _close. Quinn's aware of the obstacle beside the sofa when Rachel isn't. And, Rachel can twirl to turn them away from the sharpness of the countertop corner. _Lights dance in their brown and hazel eyes, tinged with something richer, as pupils dilate and breaths quicken.

It'll be simple. It'll be _effortless_, as they'll lose themselves in each other.

/

The next morning, Quinn finds herself sitting by the window ledge, contemplating the world. She has a warm mug in her hands and a soft smile. The morning sunlight wakes her mind and convinces her that nothing in life is out of reach. From the corner of her eyes, she's astonishingly content as watches the rise and fall of Rachel's chest under the covers. She thinks that it will be all right if this is her life now. Mornings, afternoons and evening spent loving the singer's small doubts insecurities away is _all she wants_.

And, as her mind travels over all the trials and tribulations, she thinks that it is almost funny how in the end, _they're the ones_ to find happiness in locked a room together. Past misdemeanors are forgiven and other people aren't even considered. So, for a second and against all her sensibilities, Quinn lets herself consider the notion _soul mates and meant-to be. _

"You know, you should just take a picture. I'm told that it lasts longer."

Rachel's amused sleep filled voice slips into the quiet. Her face remains half deep into the pillow, _sighing_, as the stubborn part of her tries to fight the day. In an endearing fashion, she wraps the covers a little tighter in effort to convince herself that the bedside clock is wrong and its not time to face the world. Quinn has long since given up trying not to be charmed by the sight.

"I already did."

The blonde's response is lightly teasing. She's comforted by the fact that Rachel's responses hasn't changed all that much as the brunette springs up to a sitting position on the bed. Her eyes are wide, darting around adorably for a camera as she self-consciously rearranges her haphazard bed-hair. _This time_, Quinn can say that all of these small quirks make her smile, causing all her worries to be that _little bit smaller_. And, she decidedly does not want to punch Rachel in the face.

Instead, she'll raise her hands up in laughter and surrender as the singer realizes the joke and dives to tackle. Air is a difficult thing to grasp as Rachel's warm skin makes contact with Quinn's. The singer's weight causes the pianist to twist and turn in an effort to stay balanced. There's a playful and determined glint in Rachel's eyes as she slides her hand sensuously down her girlfriend's sides. For that second _Quinn stops struggling. _It's an attempt at control, as electricity travels down her spine to become something else completely. Her hazel eyes darken to an unrecognizable shade and all of a sudden the yesterday night _doesn't feel over. _

Rachel's silver star-necklace swings in between them, _hypnotizing back and forth_.

They both swallow, hoping to rid the dryness from their mouths. The red stands out in a powerful contrast under pale cheeks as blonde hair is spread out in an untouchable halo. At Rachel's mercy, Quinn appears so focused on the moment and the sensations, taking deep powerful breaths.

Somehow, the singer barely manages to whisper her thoughts as her head leans down. _Her lips meet Quinn's in a bruising intensity _andshe's the most honest she's ever been as her words linger in the silence.

"_So damn beautiful…"_

Eventually, afternoon will make itself known in the form of grumbling stomachs and tired limbs. They'll have cereal, fruit and yogurt opposite each other at the kitchen counter because neither girl has the energy to cook. And even if they did, they're not sure that they can command their attention to leave each other alone. Rachel is mischievous as she leans over the bowls of food. She'll smirk at Quinn's distraction and sneak the last of the milk. And by the end, Quinn can't bring herself to be mad as she eats her cornflakes dry, smiling softly.

"After this, Rachel would you like to go out with me today. I want to show you something."

The blonde asks. She'll rarely be nervous but there's something in the occasion, as she waits for an answer.

_BRRRR. _

The vibrating of a star covered mobile interrupts. Rachel's expression falls as her breathing slows. Her gaze flickers to the screen, seeing Santana's name flash impatiently against a multi-colored background. And for a while, the girls will pause, reluctant to move. They'll understand that on the other end will be a new itinerary, _another circus_ and a whole new list of people to _convince_.

There's nothing else to say as Quinn quietly extends her hand. With no pressure in her eyes, she's simply giving Rachel another choice, another _opportunity_. In the silence, Quinn is kind, fully ready to accept that she _can't_ and _won't_ always come _first._

And, Rachel thinks to herself about the state of affairs. She thinks about how complicated her life _might always be_. With the path that she's chosen, she can't have many flights of fancy. She hates the idea of letting anyone down even if it's something as unintentional as being sick on a night on tour.

But Quinn is _singular_. With the pianist, Rachel doesn't feel _guilty_ when she has other responsibilities. Perhaps that's what makes things different. And, maybe that's why they keep surprising the world when nearly 6 months later; they're not scandalous on magazine covers and still side-by-side at major events.

So, there'll be a minute to deliberate. Rachel will smile as she takes Quinn's outstretched hand. In the end, she _doesn't have to_, but there are times where she _can choose_ to make Quinn _the most important._

/

The fourth time is in public. It's 2013, and the Academy awards ceremony has arrived. Lewis is a gentleman, ever so helpful as he opens doors and clears the path for the women who have become his closest friends. He'll bicker playfully with Santana and engage in a spontaneous dance sequences with Brittany. Rachel will treat him like a confidant and an irreplaceable brother figure as they're asked about their movie reaching the nominations. And, when the others aren't looking Lewis and Quinn will engage in great literary debates about the classics. They'll argue over Tolstoy to Roald Dahl, looking for moments of reprieve under that flashing attention.

The category is _Best Actress in a Leading Role_. There's stiff competition as the camera pans to each table, zooming in on the hope and the curiosity of the entrants. It seems like slow torture, as the hosts makes sweeping compliments and delay the opening of the cardstock white envelope.

Reassuringly, Quinn reaches down to squeeze the singer's hand in luck and encouragement. She quirks her lips and tilts her head warmly, taking the stress away from the moment. It _works_, as the frenzied quality lessens in brown eyes and Rachel leans their heads together.The award will mean a lot to Rachel, _recognition and a permanent mark in history; _more than her productions on tour but always _less than that National's victory in glee…_

The singer _wins_.

The name Rachel Berry is enthusiastically spoken into the microphones as clapping and congratulations, erupt. Quinn barely has the chance to say anything, as the singer is swept away by directors, producers and fellow cast members to the stage. Quinn stands clapping, as the brunette gets further away. The last thing that makes it through the _loudness_ is Rachel's loving gaze as she turns her head to grin brilliantly at Quinn. They mouth three words across the distance and none of the rest matters.

Rachel _glows_ on stage, barely moving her hands because the trophy is heavier than it appears to be. She's authentic in her surprise as she stutters through the beginning of her thanks _to the producers, crew and fans._ It'll follow convention, until the end, where dues are given to that significant person that _mattered most, that kept Rachel strong_. And, for a moment, with the attention of thousands, Rachel doesn't know if she _should_ say; _if she's allowed to say. _After all, the girls were told not to make a huge splash. They were told not to provoke the public.

However, when Rachel gazes to their table and Quinn is supportive, happy to shoulder the consequences of _any path that the singer chooses_, Rachel _gives in_… She will roll her eyes, muttering a joking '_screw it' _into the microphone as she hurriedly descends the steps.

Ignoring the audience's bated breath, she runs to Quinn, throwing herself into awaiting arms and lips.

/

There's a segment or snippet that never appears on the live television broadcast, but... _the whole academy reacts to the two girls_.

Every actor, actress and presenter _stands_ with kind smiles and encouraging gazes as they watch Quinn and Rachel embrace in the center of the isle. A slow clap builds momentum, showering them with an almost _thunderous approval and an odd soundtrack_. And shockingly, no other production of the year seems quite as movie-like as _this_ moment, _an honest happy ending_.

And as the crowd continues their applause, an old interview may play in the background of their minds. It didn't seem like much at the time, but it resonates now…

One of Rachel and Quinn's earliest interviews together, the girls seemed almost nervous with their fidgeting hands that only seemed to calm in the presence of each other. After a seemingly pointed and invasive question, Quinn looks away for a moment. The camera follows and enlarges her frowning expression and viewers would undoubtedly miss Rachel's concerned gaze and comforting gestures lying just beyond the frame. All they'd see would be a brief look of conflict before the pianist's eyes soften as she regains a calm sense of purpose.

Her voice is quiet but _never desperate_ as she meets the public halfway.

"Don't get me wrong. I know how unexpected this is and I understand that people feel like that they have some stake in this. Because let's face it, they do. They _love_ Rachel."

There's a pause as the statement sinks in. Rachel looks down, blushing. She'll never quite understand why but compliments and truths seemed to matter more when they slipped from the blonde's lips. Maybe it was because they had always been so few and hidden during their earlier high school years. Or maybe, it was because Quinn was always so certain in that _frightening passion_. But it was those times, when Rachel really believes that she 'mattered' in a way that her talent or fame couldn't measure.

The interviewer appears surprised by the response, expecting something loud, different and a lot more broken. Still Quinn continues, with a quiet determination in her eyes.

"The only difference now is that Rachel's fans know that there is one more person that does. Is it so terrible that that person is a _girl_? A _mother_? _Me_?"

The last question is sad and almost resigned. Rachel feels a stab in the chest as she ignores everything and guides Quinn's attention to her. The haunting clarity in those hazel eyes takes her breath away. And in the end, all she can do is smile sweetly, bringing their interlaced hands to her lips. I love you.

Quinn's eyes flutter closed, trying to mask her reactions to the contact. A rush of affection floods her body and she shakes her head, willing herself under control. She finds that she wants to protect this moment, _because forget the cameras_; this touch and these feelings were theirs.

Her voice is raspy and thick with emotion.

"I could sit here and be on every television channel to try and convince you that this is real; that we're more than out dredged up pasts make of us…"

Her eyes open and she swallows, gazing at the singer beside her.

"Because, I believe it. I. Love. Her."

Rachel smiles at the confession. She thinks that she can hear it a thousand times and yet, each one would still sound slightly different. There would be _more feeling_ and _less pain_, as their history and the burdens of being convincing slips away.

So when Quinn's attention returns to the camera, she's confident and warm in a way that doesn't sound threatening. Those working on the set pause and look their way.

"…So, it's ok if you don't see it yet. And, we're all the more thankful if you do. Nothing worth fighting for happens overnight, so we'll fight for your support."

Quinn and Rachel look to each other. Their heads are slightly tilted and loving smiles grace their faces. Those in the room wonder about the wordless conversation occurring before their eyes.

"_Give us time. And we'll do our best to give you something to believe in…"_

_/_

So now, in the large auditorium, on a night of fame, accomplishments and trophies, the on looking audience thinks that the girls have achieved their goal. As the depth of their emotions move tables of their peers and enamored strangers to their feet_, Rachel and Quinn manage to give the world something to believe in…_


	27. Chapter 27 - Endings

Chapter 27 – Perfect Endings

Wow! Shit, 600 reviews over all this time. I'm so grateful guys. I have to admit I can't believe this fic is finally finished. It feels like eons since I first started. I hope that you all have enjoyed the ride as much as I did writing it. To those who have kept with me from the very beginning: thank you, just thank you so much. And others who have just recently found it, I'm grateful that you as well! Hopefully this last chapter will leave you with warm fuzzies or the goofiest grin.

And this is probably phenomenally bad timing what with Cory Monteith's passing (my condolences to his family and friends). Finn was an interesting character to write and for what it is worth, he has a happy ending in this story.

The song for this chapter is I Feel Like That by Jason Walker. I would really advise listening to it for ultimate feels. All right, so last shout-outs:

DenabCitadel – YES! You got everything that I was trying to portray. I'm so happy.

EAnil – Please don't be already in bed. Please don't be already in bed. XD Happy Birthday by the way. I'm almost glad that I posted when I did now.

Genny – Thanks for the great advice. I kind of didn't take it for this chapter since it's the last for this fic but I will definitely follow it for the next time. Either that or not spend so long between updates!

Mary1988 – Hi friend! I remember you reviewing during the first chapters I ever wrote. Thank you for sticking with this, your support has been great. Quinn is so complex as a character, probably actually one of those that are actually 'beautifully flawed.' I hope you get a Quinn! =)

RachelBarbraBerry – you're freaking awesome ;)

Lochie17 – Follow those feels! In all seriousness I'm just glad that you enjoy it enough to reread it.

BonesFABERRY – Aw shucks. I'm blushing under the high compliments. Unfortunate I don't have more for you after this chapter but it should end with everything tied up nicely.

Phoebex13 – Ah schoolwork (feel your pain, damn high college degrees) and Hong Kong (I love going there so much!) Two excellent reasons to postpone reading this fic. Your birthday again, I do remember this happening last time, hopefully I haven't gone and made you antisocial again. Happy Birthday by the way. Haha I don't know if I should apologize to the person you date in the future for setting the bar so high. I blame Quinn and Rachel, such charming characters really! And yes, there's Fababies in this chapter =)

Sapphirous – There shall be no crying in this chapter unless it's happy tears. XD

S8105 – Haha no worries you're totally forgiven for reading it late. Nah it probably works out better for you because now there isn't such a time gap since reading the previous chapter and this last one. Dude, if you could ensure my non-homelessness and my parents not killing me for dropping out, I would totally just sit and write pretty pretty words for you!

/

In Lima, there is a large family home with warm red bricks and a navy door. For the first time in several decades, it is completely quiet; _serene… would be the better word_. A wizened woman wears a soft look of nostalgia as she glances out of the large bay windows. She has wrinkles and gray-white hair, but perhaps there's still something in the way her eyes carries conviction and how her posture keeps her tall, because you can tell – _that she's always been pretty…_

As a child, nobody ever really knows where he or she will end up. Most of the time, it's a collection of farfetched whimsies that change and mature with time.

When Quinn was 5 years old, she wanted to be a pilot. She wanted to touch the beautiful soft clouds and meet the mysterious god that her parents told her lived in the sky. However in less than a year, she'd discovered that it would mean strange hours and a long distance away from home. Back then, Quinn had a loving sister and doting parents; she couldn't fathom leaving any of them behind. So in the end, that first dream was _quickly abandoned._

As the years continued to pass, at the age of fifteen Quinn found passion in the sciences. She excelled in biology and enjoyed learning about the way the world worked. And as she and Santana stayed with Brittany after the dancer's first broken bone: _in a sterile hospital room_ the pieces seemed to fall into place. The thought crossed her mind, _that maybe, _she wanted to help people and be a doctor. Quinn spent almost 2 years in medical school before realizing that although she loved the learning, there was something else, _someone else_ that she needed more. And between the confusion and endless longing, she could feel herself changing yet again. So she stopped fighting, allowing herself to be pulled along and wondering about the conclusion to her constant metamorphosis. _Would Rachel even recognize her in the end?_

As the academic year finished, it became easier to just walk away…

During her time in Ohio, Quinn had no clear trajectory. For the first time in a while, she didn't care for plans, control or what would happen next. She just needed a break, _freedom_ from her heartache and misery. So, there were a lot that came as a surprise. She didn't expect to buy a rundown café. She didn't expect to be back at McKinley, assisting one Sue Sylvester. However, most of all, Quinn didn't expect to _finally figure things out_ – that as everything and everybody inevitably moved on, she _hadn't_. She was still in love with Rachel Berry. She still wanted a life, _a future_ with Rachel.

Music, lyrics and the English language, it had been a refuge. Even at this age and after all this time, the pianist still finds that there are too many and yet, _not enough_ words to communicate her feelings. But, in the silence, nothing is lost. The girls let their touches do the talking instead. Maybe it was all right to admit that she was tired from all the battles fought. However, when Rachel is in her arms and always on her mind, Quinn refuses to lose hope and she'll never dream of letting go.

So, in hindsight, perhaps the significance isn't in the wondrous dreams that people come up with or the ones that slip away. No, maybe the most important thing is that one want, one wish and one future that we can't help but hold onto. It doesn't change, staying with us until were fifty, seventy and _ninety…_

In the large sunroom, Quinn lets out a soft lilting chuckle and she can just make out her reflection in the window. The changes from her youth are apparent, no less daunting now than during the appearance of that first gray hair. There are wrinkles around her eyes from laughter, and so much more. The arthritis in her fingers keeps her from the piano but it's not the end of her relationship to music. A stack of old CDs that didn't belong in the digital age is always within reach. And slowly, a smile drifts upon her face. Her head lifts and her breathing slows, stillness blankets the room. And, the pianist asks you to wait for it…

_Right_ _there… listen carefully. _

There's another voice, throaty from long time use. It's a sound that Quinn's always been blown away by. It's a sound that's so familiar, resonating to her bones. And it is a _perfect_ moment, when Rachel cheerfully appears at the door. As age continues to take its course, the singer is even shorter than before. Most times, Rachel doesn't really pay the changes any attention. But then there are afternoons spent with Santana and Brittany, where the Latina, ever so helpfully teases Rachel. There's affection and fondness in everyone's faces as Rachel crosses her arms petulantly and turns her head away in a secretly amused huff. Some things didn't change.

The years have all passed by, happy, sad and beyond her imagination. Pictures of children, grandchildren and old friends litter the walls of the house. Quinn feels old: she's _fought, _she's_ lived_ and she's _stayed_. There's nothing else left to worry about or do. So, she'll close her eyes and rest. She'll surrender herself to the arms that love and comfort; the only ones that she ever wanted.

Rachel still smells of cinnamon and baking…

On the tea table there is an album, _a final set of music, _that tells their entire story. It'll narrate the journey from adolescent dreaming to matching silver rings and hyphenated last names on mailboxes. It'll paint the scene of the pitter-patter of excited little feet followed by innocent laughter and affectionate calls for 'momma and mommy.'

This is how they made a home together...

/

It starts with an innocent comment made by a stranger, during a visit to Lima, Ohio…

Quinn needs to go back to manage a few errands and to conduct an annual check-up on her café. The blonde seems almost unsure and a little shy when she approaches Rachel with an invitation to join her. The singer thinks it's endearing. She can't help the bubble of excitement at the prospect. And she swears that she's been patient, never pushing the pianist earlier. But Rachel won't lie, after Santana's offhand comments, she's more than just a little curious.

She can't wait to see something that Quinn built, even if it was _without_ her. She can't wait to be introduced to something that the blonde was _so passionate about._ And if possible, Rachel thinks that she can say that she'll fall in love with the place straightaway, that she's already _so_ _proud_.

It never occurs to her that she's always been a part of it, that maybe she's the inspiration.

When Rachel finds out, it happens in an _instant_; it is a simple vision _of painted words on cream walls_. The lyrics, which spoke of a complicated history, a burgeoning love story and moments of hopelessness, are _honest_, _bold_ and _unapologetic_. It pulls her into old and treasured memories. Brown eyes fill with tears, hands fly to her open mouth in shock and the wealth of feelings is staggering. With slightly jagged edges and punctuated last letters and full stops, Rachel can only imagine the thoughts and sentiments behind Quinn as she chose which songs to put and what colour to paint them; _it's everything about them_.

Rachel remains rooted to her spot; she barely notices the pianist's comforting hand on the small of her back. She only _just_ catches the warmth in the whispered words.

"You are an international star Rachel… but if you want, you will _always_ have this place waiting for you…It'll never ask you to be anyone else except _Rachel Berry_: small town girl, McKinley High School graduate and national glee club champion..."

Quinn smiles gently before giving the singer space to process. She presses her lips softly to Rachel's cheek, letting her lips wisp along those cheekbones before pulling away. It takes her a second to breathe again, to gain control of her faculties and will the intensity that is always associated with the singer _away_ from her eyes. Quietly, she'll put some distance, grabbing the logbook by the entrance and uncapping a blue pen, ready to go through the accounts.

Rachel remains in sort of a stupor, as she shakily lowers herself into the nearest booth. Her mouth is dry and she can hear the beating of her heart and the curious whispers of the patrons. Sometimes, in the quiet humility and contentedness of the pianist to just be there and support Rachel, it is easy to forget how _brilliant_ Quinn is. That intelligence, drive and ability to _succeed_ that separates her from others. Truthfully, the singer's surroundings amaze her, making her feel euphoric and like someone else's _dream_: _Quinn's_. But in the end, she's undoubtedly more enchanted by the pianist, herself. The complicated girl whose disinterested mask slips a little too much around Rachel.

"You know you should really put a ring on that girl… God knows we've all been waiting long enough."

A croaky voice interrupts, as an elderly woman seats herself opposite the singer. With a twinkle in her eyes and a teasing smirk, she seems young despite her dentures and wheelchair. And Rachel feels her mouth flutter open and close, at the bluntness of the statement. A ring? Embarrassment takes her features and with her thoughts in chaos, she tries to come up with an adequate reply.

"Merrell! Stop scaring Rachel!"

Quinn's admonishing tone travels from across the room with a knowing look on her face. Merrell, for the most part, just seems to take the reprimand in stride, rolling her eyes and muttering loudly, _with every intention to be heard_.

"What? As if you could hear me from all the way over there!"

The quick retort sails back, but nothing stops or becomes out of place. The other patrons simply chuckle and laugh as if it were a regular occurrence, the side milk to their morning coffees. However for Rachel, there's this instance…_when Quinn is different. _The pianist's grin is broad, laid back and _easy _in a way that Rachel has so rarely seen. She's simply captivated, stuck in the realization that her thoughts and descriptions of Quinn Fabray will always fall short. And it's not that the blonde has been pretending all this time or that Rachel doesn't know her as well she thought, but perhaps there's something about being in your hometown... That, as much, as the slow lifestyle and the stigma of a trouble-filled past _remains_ haunting, there's no other place or city that will ever _know you. _Lima was where it all began, fraught with the best and the worst and _teaching them how to be that little too honest. _

Today and _this_ conversation is no exception.

Rachel listens to the exchange. The ease and the lightness, brings a smile to her face. It feels simple, comfortable and so much like a _routine_. And with that faint sense of affection and permanence, Rachel's heart skips a beat and a happy excitement starts to build.

Whispers and denials of 'too soon' and other kept insecurities fade to the background.

She had always hoped that maybe, possibly and _probably_ that they'd end up together. But there was a difference between _thinking_, and having it in front of you. Her gaze lingers on Quinn's profile, focusing on the way the blonde's eyes are light-hearted and how honest she's taught herself to be. Slowly it hits Rachel, the visions of a future where they're _married_, buying their first house and making scrapbooks in old age. Until this moment, it never occurred to her that she'd been playing it safe, that they _both_ _had; _so afraid to lose what they've only just regained.

And here, in a small café built on tears and a persistent romance, it's almost _designed_ to remind them of what life could be _if they were courageous_. Rachel lets out a soft chuckle as she ruffles her hair in an attempt to wake up. Was she really going to do this?

Then, _there's a light graceful laugh._ When the singer looks up, Quinn is pulling what could only be described as a childish impersonation as she fondly taunts an ever-sarcastic Merrell… _And Rachel doesn't need to think anymore._

She realizes that there's a mother in town she needs to talk to. Permission; she should ask for. And a family ring to have resized.

It's been a while since they've taken such a risk with their feelings. Rachel smiles wistfully, her breath catching as Quinn's warm gaze meets hers. A blush appears on both their faces as they have trouble looking away. Giddiness causes their hearts to pound in their chests and_ for a moment_, they are so much like their teenage selves, wide-eyed and caught off-guard by the intensity of their desire to be _somebody important_ in each other's eyes.

_Baby…you've been on my mind. Let's not miss our ride. Let's finally make this right. _

/

The engagement ring burns a hole in the Rachel's pocket for months. In the rapid activity of their lives, there's never a right time. Plans for a candlelit dinner, romantic strolls and beautiful scenic backdrops pile up by the wayside. Perfection is a goal that leads to chances foregone, sweaty palms and nervous fumbling.

For a while, Quinn is confused by her girlfriend's erratic behaviour, Santana is continually bored and Brittany's eyes would twinkle with hidden knowledge.

There's something to be said about the beauty and bravery of simple proposals. However, Rachel has always been different, placing her emphasis on 'spectacular and amazing.' And out of everything she has done, Quinn is perhaps the most deserving of that single-minded focus and passion. The person who cared enough for her to make sure that _settling wasn't even an option. _So,Rachel needed to make this memorable. She _needed_ to make this everything the Quinn has ever dreamed of because she doesn't know when, but she's started living for Quinn's whole-hearted grins. You know_, the ones where the pianist might even be aware that she's smiling._

Santana finds Brittany and Rachel a mess in the studio on a late night. She has a raised eyebrow at the sight. One girl had messed up brown hair _angrily _orientated in all directions and tired bloodshot eyes, muttering about _stupid strategies and inane traditions_. The other seemed more put together despite the slight smudge of chocolate along high cheekbones, looking equally as perplexed and speaking of happy unicorn places. Santana wondered about when their lasts attempts at sleeping were.

Taking a cursory glance around the room, her gaze lands on the back corner. There's a brainstorming board with several rectangular cards pinned. Each says a single word: love, Quinn, marry and me. The rest is covered by: post-it notes, thumbtack and highlighted text about possible locations but Santana thinks that she gets the idea. A sigh of relief is let out, thankful for the explanation. The singer and the dancer both look up in shock at her unexpected presence.

Rachel for the most part, seemed to lack even the energy to be appropriately flustered simply choosing to let her head fall against the wall she had been leaning on. Brittany eventually gives her Santana a small smile, a silent apology for keeping Rachel's secret. Afterwards, she seems thoughtful for a moment before her eyes seem to light up. Quite abruptly, Brittany gets up and digs within her gym bag. The flurry of activity distracts Santana and Rachel as they watch the scene confusedly. There's a small sound of triumph as the dancer finally stands up with a gummy snake in hand. With a blindingly brilliant smile, Brittany motions for the singer to watch, whispering a quiet _"like this Rach…"_

And Santana honestly has no idea what was going on. She has even less of one when Brittany pulls her to the side to sit on one of the chairs. Still, her heart is racing and Santana swears that she's _not_ feeling lightheaded. Her dark eyes follow Brittany as the dancer takes an excited glance around the room, as if to make sure everything was in its place. There's a sense of exuberance to the tall blonde as she is unable to contain herself bouncing on the balls of her feet. For a brief time, Santana is _actually scared_. But then, Brittany takes her hand and squeezes contentedly with a carefree grin despite her tired features. Brittany holds the Latina's stare warmly before clearing her throat.

"San, I love you. More than I love anything else in my life…_including dancing_."

The soft introduction, the painfully sincere confession causes blue and brown eyes to moisten. Santana uses the back of her hand to wipe away the evidence before they can become tears. That fear at the beginning transforms into butterfly feelings, and though she has her suspicions about what comes next, it _doesn't really prepare her at all…_

Brittany gracefully falls to her knees and leans forward to be that little bit _close_. She's got a quiet confidence as her left hand trails through Santana's dark tresses. Brittany doesn't mind that her hand is trembling or that her voice is wrought with emotion. In fact she welcomes it, she enjoys _drowning_ in every little intricacy and evidence of her feeling for the Latina in front of her. She never understood why something as simple as love had to hide, and she doesn't think she ever would. So with a quick shake of her head to herself, she'll let the unplanned words flow out. She'll never worry about the possibility of mistakes when her heart is being honest. She's so sure the Latina will hear the message behind muddled sentences.

"I know sometimes that I'm a little slow. And there are still a lot of things that you, Quinn and Rach talk about that I don't get."

Reflexively, Santana waves the depreciating comment away. Brittany is charmed by her girlfriend's fierce defense, something present since their childhood. She places a quick peck to Santana's lips. Brittany grins trying to communicate that it doesn't hurt her and that it's unimportant. She'll whisper strongly and in _very close_ proximity. So much so, that lips flutter against each other's with every sound and syllable.

"_But it doesn't matter between us_. Because in the end, I still understand everything about you."

There's a pause as the statement sinks in. It's incremental as Santana loses her ability to be stoic and unchanged.

The first change is in her eyes. They soften and fill with everything that Brittany has always assured her didn't need to be said. _This time_, Santana lets the tear roll down her cheek. The second is in her posture as she almost crumples into the dancer. Santana makes an active choice to let go of her strength to lean on Brittany, where she's always felt safe. The third and the last, is in the intensity of her pounding heart as she surges forward to capture Brittany's lips. Her hand slips around the back of the dancer's head to keep her there, even when she never needs to. Tongues enter into a dance and Rachel looks away, trying to leave the moment private. And when the girls finally part Santana is breathing heavily and Brittany touches her bruised lips lost in a sense of affection. Slowly coming back to her senses, she'll speak reverently.

"I knew you cared about me before you did, ever since you shared your first Barbie with me back when we were kids…"

They both shake their heads at the old memory. It was during a barbecue event as all of the residents of the street got together to welcome the Lopez family into town. With shiny toys that her father had spoiled her with, a young Santana had retreated to a corner of the backyard. She had never been good at making friends, continually unsure as to whether the other children liked _her,_ or her belongings more.

Brittany had tagged along with her aunt, automatically making a beeline for the lone girl in the corner _because; nobody should ever have to be alone_. It took only seconds after saying hello, but the dancer figured that they should be BFFs. And for some reason, Santana couldn't help but trust in the other girl's freckled face and open grin.

"San, I know that you'll still be '_it' _for me, even when we need walking sticks and get to eat ice cream every day because our teeth can't handle the hard stuff anymore…"

Hands are once again grasped together and Brittany meets her girlfriend's adoring gaze.

"So please, _marry me San_..."

The request is said so lightly that Rachel almost misses it. But, Santana doesn't, at least, not by the widening of her eyes and lingering sense disbelief. And maybe, for anybody else, such a _lack of a reaction_ would be discouraging. However, in all the years that Rachel has known Brittany, she's come to realize that the taller girl has an exceedingly good grasp on emotions and how to shape them. At the beginning, Rachel had confused that eternally confident and positive outlook with naiveté. It took time to appreciate her own mistake, for when Brittany seemed to be _so comfortable_ taking risks and landing in the _grey area_, it was as if things were never complicated to begin with. That perhaps, it was _the people_ who were making the situation so damn hard.

Santana is fierce, loud and secretly considerate. Despite her sarcastic remarks, she, like Quinn and Rachel belonged to a group of people who wanted to _think things through and have contingencies in place_. And sometimes, Brittany still feels like she's playing catch up. She's still the one trying to look up the big terms on her own time. Though, it never worries her or makes her sad because Santana doesn't leave. No, Santana will stop and _choose to dawdle with her, behind everyone else_. The Latina has taught Brittany a great many things, however when they're less than a hairs width apart and love threatens to boil over; the roles are undoubtedly reversed. And Brittany is the one to make it simpler for the both of them.

"Marry me so we can make lots of cute little mini-people and teach them to how to be happy."

Through her tears, Santana breath catches as she breaks into a chuckle. She can't believe the words she's hearing and she'll never let them go. Staring into brilliant blue eyes, the Latina tries to commit everything to memory. Brittany smiles knowingly as one of her hands caress Santana's left cheek. She'll move even closer to whisper.

"Marry me so the world knows that we're forever."

The statement is heavy with intent and meaning. Brittany moves to place a soft kiss her girlfriend's temple and Santana feels affection wash over every cell in her body. Her hearing is so very keyed onto the dancer's words and voice. Leaning their heads together, Brittany finishes strongly.

"Marry me San, because you're mine and I'm yours."

The intensity in the dancer's eyes is compelling. Emotion causes the Latina's throat to constrict and she very nearly looks away. But Brittany stops her, gently catching her jaw and bringing her back. Her next words plunge them back to their high school years.

"_Proudly yours_."

Santana can't help the whimper that escapes at the memory. She remembered how much pain she had to drink away that night. But, _this time_ it is _not_ a rejection and Brittany is so intent on righting past wrongs. Brittany knows that she could have handled the Artie/Santana situation better back then. She hadn't wanted to hurt anybody, least of all the Latina. The dancer remembers how Santana tried to keep her tears at bay but _couldn't_. She cared about her that much. And Brittany wants to prove the same. Maybe, that's why the words sound different this time.

"I promise."

The two words are laden with conviction and determination. And with Brittany looking at her with nothing but care, Santana finds herself back to their childhood years; when she almost automatically trusts. She so badly wants to say _yes. _But then, the world returns to mind. Rachel's small gasp is heard and Santana doesn't know what this is: a demonstration _or the truth. _So with a deep breath, she tries to keep her voice light and without pressure or expectation.

"Britt, are you serious?"

There's confusion at the question. Brittany looks between Rachel and Santana's shared cautious expressions, how they seem to be holding back, keeping a tight rein on their emotions.

"Why wouldn't I be?"

There's a pause. Rachel is taken back and Santana seemed to be rubbing her forehead, trying to convince herself of reality. Watching them, Brittany can't help but believe that the other girls _are thinking too much with their heads again. _

The dancer realizes the spontaneity of her decision. Sure, she had wanted to show Rachel how to tell Quinn and how the heart was the only thing that mattered. The rest: the words, the ring and the location, were beautiful attachments that _could maybe_ make a fonder memory. But, _it just wasn't the most important._

And proposing to Santana, Brittany couldn't imagine a better use or outcome of her life than to _be_ with the Latina. Their reactions _in this moment_ were real and _theirs_. Brittany is as happy and excited as she's ever been. And Santana? She's barely holding it together; wanting nothing but to throw herself into the dancer's arms and to bask in the fact that this is all that they thought that they would never have.

The fact that it hadn't been preplanned and carefully constructed with the _sole intention_ to ask for a combined future, didn't take anything away. _It didn't mean_ that Brittany loved Santana any less because that wasn't possible. Such a thought didn't even make sense to the dancer.

So, she answers effortlessly with her thoughts.

"I don't think that would be funny San."

A pause. Rachel reaches for something to keep herself stable as she sinks into her chair. She's _so happy for her friends_ and to some extent she can see what Brittany is trying to teach her. But maybe, it was a lesson Rachel had to learn for herself or maybe it wasn't a solution universal for everybody.

The singer agrees that this had been a long time coming for Santana and Brittany, _inevitable even_. And they were _so sure and seamless,_ because the moment is beautiful and unique to their personalities and past experiences. For Brittany has always been a free spirit, secure and happy in her ability to make Santana _everything good in her life._ And Santana seems to be the one to grasp it: _not just_ the cheerful exterior but also the powerful sense of emotion behind it.

So, it's not surprising that she recovers before Rachel. And it is not at all surprising that she's unmistakably charmed and taken away her girlfriend's sweet proposal. There's very little need to consider anything as her heart races with the exhilaration of her next response.

"Yes Britts."

A brilliant and almost goofy grin falls on the dancer's face. Rachel can't help the squeal that jumps out of her throat, to which, Santana just rolls her eyes amusedly. The Latina takes a deep breath before focusing her entire attentions on the girl kneeling in front of her. With whispered words and peppered kisses, Santana speaks a thought that she's probably held onto since they first met.

"_I want to marry you._"

Rachel turns away to shuffle and organize the sheets of planning strewn over the floor, hoping to give her friends some privacy. A smile becomes etched on her face as she captures one last image in mind. Brittany eyes are sparkling as she ties the green-coloured jelly snake confectionary around Santana's ring finger. A temporary sign of promise, before they go out hand in hand the next day, to all the jewelry shops on Fifth Avenue and 57th Street. It's funny, because years down the line, Santana, who has always coveted the shining, golden and sparkling; actually thought that the malleable candy was her favourite engagement ring…

The night eventually winds down and morning is just around the corner. Brittany and Santana are caught in a silent conversation until, the dancer let's go of her fiancé to walk towards Rachel. She has her usual soft and kind expression as she speaks carefully. She doesn't want the singer to be any more afraid because she doesn't have to be.

"See Rach? It's not so hard. Just tell Quinn what's in here."

Brittany points her hand to Rachel's chest where _the heart is._ Rachel tries to shake her head in quiet objection, not knowing how to explain why _her_ situation is different. Brittany for the most part understands, knowing that though her friend doesn't get it yet, she will. The dancer expects that the realization will come during a night similar to all the others. An evening spent with Quinn when they're doing everything right and_ loving perfectly._ Emotions will brim over and the next steps will become undeniable, as the words to the proposal come tumbling into mind.

Brittany can see it clearly, and so in the meantime, she leaves Rachel with reassurances that the singer probably has always known.

"She'll say yes, you know. Quinn loves you so much already."

Rachel finds a tear slipping down her cheek at thought. An immeasurable feeling of joy and excitement bubbles up and she can't wait for that future. She never really could, and all those adolescent dreams just seem inadequate now. They've both grown up so much. Santana rubs her jaw uncomfortably; her mouth opens and closes with too-nice statements that she has a bit of trouble getting past her vocal cords. In the end, she manages to choke out.

"Berry. Just ask her. You've already got her _so high_ on you… "

The way Santana says it, is different. She carries a different perspective on Quinn: one that isn't as easily ignored. And it's with a sigh and tired smile that Santana will quietly explain.

"…_She hasn't had her head on straight since senior year_…."

Santana's words fill the silence. There's intensity, warning and something else in her eyes as she stares at Rachel. It causes the singer to swallow noticeably before watching resolution take the Latina's features. Santana's stance is suddenly softened and a tentative nod is given. In that moment, Rachel can't help but feel as if she had been handed something precious. As if Santana, perhaps Quinn's oldest and closest friend had vacated a position for her. It made Rachel want to be that little bit more heroic for Quinn, because maybe, she's the pianist's protector now. Santana clears her throat before speaking to the singer.

"I…I hope that you figure out how you want to ask her because you guys...you deserve this too you know?"

Kindness slips into the Latina's countenance as her eyes ask Rachel to see the truth in what they were saying. Still, Santana doesn't push. It's not wrong that Rachel wants so badly to do something extraordinary for Quinn that nothing will ever quite feel enough. The notion is actually quite sweet because it is so obvious that the difficulty is in the fact that Quinn means _everything_. She's more to Rachel than sessions of electric contact, evenings spent just talking or her _family ring_. So it is all right to take more time. Santana and Brittany will simply play the roles of supporters and distractors that little bit longer as Rachel finds that fitting method and that romantic medium that will finally be _worthy_.

Brittany and Santana leave the room for some much needed sleep. Glancing back at Rachel, Santana pauses by the door, gruffly saying.

"You and Q deserve to finally be together, however you want."

For what seems like a long time, Rachel is frozen but then a look appears in her eyes and Santana can already predict the long verbalization of gratitude that was to follow. Quickly, Santana rolls her eyes and turns her back before Rachel gets the chance.

_Yeah, she's reached her emotion quotient tonight_.

However then, when her gaze drifts to her ring finger and Brittany: a smile crawls its way back onto her face and she can't help think that _maybe she really hasn't…_

/

Brittany ends up being right. Most of the time, she is. The wait really doesn't take that long.

The perfect ring is a combination of the Berry's family wedding band and Judy's engagement ring passed down all the years from mother-to-daughter.

The perfect location is surprisingly Lima, on a stage and with the help of their closest friends.

And the perfect medium, the perfect proposal is music – a song, _like it has always been. _It isa simple set of lyrics accompanied by an affectionate tune.

Rachel is so _nervous_ on the day. For somebody whose career and passions are built on performances she feels decidedly _just like everyone else_ as her thoughts fly around in a jumbled mess and palms begin to sweat. Her pacing around is erratic and every time someone approaches they're quickly waved away. In the end, she smiles, knowing that it was always the notion of Quinn that brought her to this state. She peeks around the temporary wall of the stage to the guests seated outside. _And there the pianist is_.

Seated near the middle of the front row in a light blue bridesmaid dress; Quinn has a gardenia weaved through her long blonde locks. Suddenly, Rachel's throat feels dry and she doesn't know _how to be this thankful_. There were a lot of things that New York and Hollywood has taught her to sacrifice or be skeptical of: the price of fame, maybe. It was sometimes hard to believe in love and the associated happy endings when Rachel always saw how easily everything was faked for the cameras.

But, in the end… Quinn_ is _believable.

That is the only thought that Rachel has as she loses her mind to everything that the pianist is. She lets herself be captured by the fierce loyalty in hazel eyes as Quinn hugs Santana and whispers something jokingly before marveling at the golden wedding band. By the reluctant redness under Santana's cheeks, Rachel imagines that Quinn had just told the other girl how radiant she looked in her wedding gown. For as confident as the Latina could be, she's different around those that she cares about. So Santana probably responds the only way that she knows how, gesturing sarcastically and giving her friend a playful shove.

Then, Quinn looks up. And from the distance, her gaze lands on Rachel. She smiles softly and just like that; Rachel is ready to send her cynicism away. The singer thinks that the calm sense of affection in those hazel eyes might actually be tangible because somehow, she feels warmer. Her insides tingle and summersault. And right now, in this moment? It is certainly hard to say that teenagers and authors exaggerate in their descriptions of love.

For Rachel Berry, what she cares most about and what she can't live without, it all boils down to one person: _Quinn_ _Lucy Fabray_. It wasn't like that from the very start but it is _now_ and it will _always be_ from now on. The singer laughs to herself. There are those instances; people called them 'light bulb moments or something.' Basically, when your whole world clicked into place or suddenly made sense. In reality, it's not really like that but it is _damn close._ Stresses seem to mean _less_ as Rachel gives the prettiest girl _in her world_ a small wave. She can't quite move yet. But her heart _is _skipping _especially_ when Quinn looks at her like that. The pianist wears a look of confused curiosity as she returns the gesture. There are more than just a few meters between them but Quinn's distracted smile says that she is unmistakably charmed by the singer's various eccentricities.

Brittany watches the exchange from the side. She had wanted to speak to Rachel and give last reassurances only to find that it wasn't necessary. The changes were obvious. The frazzled girl who had such trouble with the _how_ seems now only to be preoccupied with the _when._ The way Rachel wrung her hands and stared devotedly at _one girl_; it was like all she wanted was to get there. For the words did come to her, in moments of '_not thinking,'_ and it turned out that it was the same ones all along; the lines excitedly etched into her high school diary and touring journals.

"Hi Rachy."

Brittany voice carries softly. Rachel turns around in surprise and finds her feet off the ground as she is lifted into a hug. Her delight is unbothered and familiar as she tries to return enthusiastic gesture. It is just hard when you are flying in the air. Eventually, she's placed back down. Rachel takes in everything about the girl who helped her through her troubled periods. She remembers Brittany trying so desperately to lend Rachel her euphoria and strength. They didn't quite know how to talk to each other at the start, at least not without Santana's translations and Quinn's further clarifications. But they learnt, and in the process managed to develop their independence together. In many ways, they were so unlike the girls sitting in the distance on white plastic chairs. They weren't Quinn and Santana, people who had matured too quickly. And, their friendship is different, _lighter, respectful and almost easy in their interactions_.

"Brittany, I am so happy for you. The ceremony…"

Rachel gestures to the intricate set up. Santana and Brittany had recited their vows in the outdoors and with sunset lighting that did nothing but accentuate the curve of their grins and the trails of their happy tears. The couple had stood on the greenest fresh cut grass, it was in a park; _the closest thing Lima had to Botanic gardens_. The boys of New Directions had high fived each other in greeting, and with grunts and effort set up the platform and the stage. The girls, on the other hand played the intermediaries, the planners and the doers as they kept the peace and solved the minor hiccups along the way: Tina with her sewing kit and Lauren with her laptop link to the weather forecast. Mr Schue even brought his new glee club; they were the wedding band.

Holding Brittany's gaze, Rachel speaks softly.

"…It was perfect. You and Santana were so beautiful up there."

The dancer simply smiles, shrugging to herself. She wasn't going to deny it. It was brilliant. She had everything she wanted.

"Thank you Rach... _But, it's your turn now_."

There's an encouraging nod as silence fills the space. They both look out from behind the stage to Quinn, who is still chatting with Santana. The pianist is involved in her conversation but every now and then, her eyes would glaze over and she might just be looking for something, _someone._ Brittany places a hand on Rachel's shoulder giving it a light squeeze.

"She's waiting for you. She's been waiting for a long time…"

There's no need to debate the truth of that statement. They remember Santana's protectiveness and the haunted quality that had plagued Quinn for the first months of their reunion. For the longest time Rachel doesn't reply, content only on gazing at her girlfriend. Her whisper is barely audible.

"_She's not the only one." _

It is perhaps a statement that only Brittany understands the truth behind; after all, she had been around for all of it. The dancer was the one who cuddled Rachel to sleep, as they wept for the singer's diminishing faith in love. She watched Rachel go on date after date, many of them she helped set up and others that were just accidents and forced attempts at not being lonely. It wasn't that Rachel didn't feel anything for those other suitors; it was that she could never bring herself to feel _enough_. At least it was never enough to rid Quinn from her mind. She found herself making comparisons and in nearly every single one, the pianist won without much thought.

Brittany sighs, the memories never seemed to stop being sad.

"No, _I think you've been waiting for her too_."

The girls share a smile, thankful that the truth no longer hurts. Instead, it is embraced. Rachel hugs herself awkwardly before asking.

"So, do you think she'll like it, the song I mean?"

Brittany tilts her head.

"Why don't you sing it and see for yourself?"

Brittany extends her hand. Her fingers are clasped around a black microphone, bedazzled just for fun. It's been a while since Rachel has seen her old karaoke companion but the dancer thinks that the extra confidence couldn't hurt. Closing her eyes, Rachel nods.

"Ok."

Brittany drags the singer to the stage. The rapidity of their movement causes the microphone and speakers to lurch, letting out a loud screech. There's only a brief instant before all eyes fall to them. Rachel blushes in under the attention, wondering if everyone saw the almost trip as Brittany propelled the both of them forward. In the awkward moment, Santana rolls her eyes at the racket, exhaling and muttering about idiots and timing as she makes her way onto the stage. The Latina kisses Brittany sweetly before taking the other microphone. Watching the scene, Quinn seems puzzled whilst the rest of the audience was unmoving.

"Alright, so I wants everybody's attention on me for a second. We good?"

Santana waits impatiently, scanning the room. Once she's sure everyone is listening, she smirks. Santana shakes her head resignedly to herself but there's affection in her eyes that takes the sting out of her words and delivery.

"Now, there is only one person that crazy enough to make me her bloody back-up singer on my own wedding day. But, it's important. So Puck? Stop spiking the punch bowl, it's already alcoholic you idiot."

At this, there is an abrupt clink as metal flasks and crystal ladles are dropped guiltily. With hands raised up in surrender, Puck takes an exaggerated step away from the drinks, dodging the snarl of Sue Sylvester. The older woman narrowed her eyes; she had always suspected that it was Puckerman that masterminded the drunken prom nights. Artie Abrams just wasn't a convincing criminal. The crowd laughs at the familiarity of all their personalities. It was rare that they get together like this, every single member of the old New Directions from all parts of the country. The scary thing would be if they all changed and if none of them knew how to talk to each other anymore. Quinn eyes sparkle in quiet mirth, she supposes that they had to thank Mr Schue for this. By pushing them past the superficial, the teacher had provided them with lasting links to each other, _friends for the fifty million ways that the world could end. _

Santana's voice filters in again.

"And Kelsey and Finn? As much as I love little Jackie, keep him behaved."

The response is prompt, joking salutes and sheepish grins as the young parents bring a small boy back into the boundaries of their arms. They try to explain things to the child who was so wide-eyed and inquisitive. But, Jackie kept looking around and wanting to make his way to Auntie Quinn, who would always tell cool stories about a mysterious singer and play airplanes with him.

For a while, Santana seems to just sigh deeply, as a slow grin slips onto her features.

"So without further delay, here's my favourite pain in the ass: Rachel Berry!"

The crowd breaks into hollers and friendly applause, not overdone or impersonal. Rachel moves to the middle of the stage and is thankful for a moment. It's different, performing in front of friends. They don't see her as a celebrity or someone untouchable. The only person that they're clapping for is the girl they found themselves reluctantly befriending in high school, the one that fell wholly for a certain graceful pianist. And for the purposes of what happens next, Rachel is so glad. She didn't think strangers would understand and she would never trust other voices to carry Quinn's song.

Quinn, for the most part is composed. She has long since given up on trying to figure out Santana-Brittany-Rachel's friendship, plans and interactions. It was amazing how close they all were and how entrenched they became in each other's worlds.

During one of her visits to Lima, Finn had told Quinn that that was one of the many reasons why she and Rachel were the ones to stay together for the long haul. Because, even during the peak of Finn's care for the singer: he could never integrate or merge their futures. It would be so forced and whilst neither would say it out loud at the time, _he didn't fit._ He was like a post-it tacked on at the last minute, where Quinn was the _writing_ on the paper... Whatever, Finn knew that he wasn't making sense. After all he was never good with words, however as Quinn nodded softly and squeezed his hand, he thought _she got it. _He thinks that she understands the significance of the fact that nearly every facet of her life so willingly bled into Rachel's and the parts that hadn't yet, would do so in time.

So in the end, the tilt of her head is the only indicator that she might be caught off-guard by the sequence of events. There's a worsening blush underscoring Rachel's cheeks as she shuffles and chuckles awkwardly into the microphone. Her hand even does a small wave. Quinn's never seen Rachel this nervous.

"Santana Lopez, ladies and gentlemen."

The tongue-in-cheek comment garners a few chuckles, as people unconsciously lean forward in anticipation. Rachel studiously avoids Quinn's gaze, as she turns to the newly wed couple.

"Really though, what you two have, and the fact that it is _so real_ that it brings us all back here to see it through, _is nothing short of amazing_. Special doesn't seem like an apt enough description you know?"

Under the sincerity of the singer's brown eyes, Brittany bounces happily on her toes and Santana rubs her jaw embarrassedly. There's a murmur of agreement balancing out the cheering calls. Rachel seems almost lost in her memories with her next statement.

"It was a long time ago, but I remember one night where you guys were at Carl's ice-creamery. And, I was just watching from the counter…"

"Still creepy there Berry."

Santana interrupts with a grin and slight mocking tone. To which, Rachel simply rolls her eyes back lightheartedly.

"You guys were so wrapped up in each other that you didn't notice."

Santana seemed to ready to make another comment when only muffled sounds comes out as Brittany contentedly placed her hand over her wife's mouth. Ignoring the laughing audience, the dancer nodded for Rachel to continue. Everybody pretended that they didn't hear the quiet moan escape Brittany's lips as Santana's eyes carried a mischievous glint behind long fingers. Amused, Rachel shook her head to herself.

"Santana, you were whispering something into Brittany's ear and your arms tightened around her. I thought that I had never seen her smile so delighted and untroubled. Anyway, Quinn walked up to me and I asked her, well no, I kind of just said to her that you guys must really actually _love each other_..."

At this comment, Santana stops struggling and her shoulders seem to relax. Eventually Brittany's hand falls away and all that can be seen is the warmest smile as Santana acknowledges the singer's words and gazes at the dancer. Watching her friends, Rachel feels her eye moisten, hoping for the best things. With the rising tide of emotions, Rachel gives in and finally looks to Quinn. Holding the pianist's gaze, she'll whisper the _exact statement from the night._

"She told me that you guys are the closest thing to real-life soul mates if I believed in that sort of thing. "

_I do. _

The two unspoken words linger in Rachel's mind as she stares into hazel eyes. Quinn sweetly mouths a small admission. The silent words wrap around the singer's thundering heart, and teaches it to find the calm in between the rapid beats. The pianist will make a small graceful gesture with her hand; an encouragement to go on, as the crinkles around her eyes spoke of love, reverence and pride.

Rachel eyes shine under the twinkle of fairy lights. She'll take a noticeable breath before turning around to face Santana and Brittany one last time.

"I guess I just want you to know, that that belief is shared by everyone sitting here tonight. Whatever happens, you guys gave a lot of us the start we needed."

Before Rachel even gets her last word out, a loud applause swiftly moves through the audience as their friends and family stand up. There's no doubt about the two girls in white wedding dresses on stage, and every time it sounds like the agreement and roaring celebration might die down, it simply flares up again. The girls are left slightly dumbfounded. Santana stands awkwardly whilst Brittany incites the crowd further, waving happily and pretending to be hard of hearing. In the end, Rachel hugs them both, murmuring thousands of thanks and best wishes for their future. Eventually, the Latina seems decides to stop the singer and force her back to the middle of the stage. And slowly, the noise comes down and everyone is quiet. People watch on, eager to see what might happen next.

Full of emotion, Rachel's voice carries across the room.

"So, it's true what Santana has been saying, there's something I want to sing. And it's important… I'd like some of your help to make it perfect."

Blaine, Kurt, Puck, Sam, Mike, Finn and Artie begin to move closer to the stage. The boys have the largest grins on their faces, as they make sure to straighten up their suit jackets and re-orientate their bow ties. Watching the effort, Rachel chuckles nervously.

"After all, _I only ever plan on doing ever this once."_

And like that, it seems to be another signal as Lauren, Tina and Mercedes join the three girls that were already on stage. They're a little better at hiding their excitement as they fall into a perfect line behind the singer, each touching Rachel lightly on the shoulder before stepping back. Their beaming expressions are all directed to the lone blonde sitting _front and center_. At this point, Quinn bites her lower lip. She takes in the sight of her friends and whilst she's been the leader and the focus of attention before, this is decidedly different.

It's surprisingly difficult not to feel _a little_ self-conscious. Her mind runs through a list of possibilities as she tries to tell herself to _think realistically_. It's probably not what she thinks it is, because a while back Rachel had said that it was too early to think about marriage. But _god,_ that didn't make Quinn want it any less. She's not used to following someone else's lead but for Rachel she _would_. So she'll close her eyes and take a moment to keep a handle on her emotions. She'll forget about the white gold engagement ring that she's hidden in an old shoebox in their New York apartment. She'll maybe even roll her eyes to herself to feel grounded and convince herself that she was misreading the passion in Rachel eyes, the planning behind the moment and the reactions of the people around them.

Breathe. Swallow. And for the love of god, please don't fall out of the chair.

Slowly, hazel eyes become visible again. Quinn finds herself finally looking up and meeting Rachel gaze. And, faintly in her head, the immature part of her would groan about the unfairness of it all because, Rachel Berry shouldn't be allowed to look at like that. The singer shouldn't be allowed to stare at Quinn as if the world really did fade away like the storybooks taught and…_as if they were going to live happily ever after_...

Watching the flash of thoughts cross Quinn's face, Rachel wants to be closer; in fact every fiber of her body always tries to lean into the blonde. It's cliché, but everything about Quinn is _magnetizing_ and Rachel thinks she might as well be a small paper clip that doesn't really stand a chance. The singer smiles to herself, because _she doesn't want to ever be able to resist the pianist_. Rachel doesn't ever want to be capable refusing Quinn anything she wants. So, Rachel decides to jump in. She stops Quinn's fluttering and backtracking thoughts, speaking strongly into the microphone.

"_Always_, Quinn."

There's a seriousness in Rachel's tone that causes the pianist's eyes widen. It's not a promise that they make often, but in the rare times that they did, it was because they had _believed_ and _wanted_ a future together _so much,_ that they couldn't lie with 'maybe or someday wording' anymore. Quinn's breath catches. Suddenly, she's so scared to miss anything that Rachel might say. The singer tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear anxiously. And with the action Quinn can't help remind herself that _Rachel Berry doesn't get nervous_.

But then, just as quickly she hears Rachel's comment from a recent enough memory; _I was around you… _

"We're _always _Quinn."

Rachel reiterates fiercely, gesturing gently to the both of them.

"And, in many ways this might just a formality, because… I'm beginning to think that _this thing we_ _have_ has always been _forever_."

The conviction that Rachel carries resounds with every person as they look on with grins and quiet support. The pianist can only stare back at the singer. She's got a racing heart and moisture filled eyes that she doesn't know what to do with. _Forever_, it's the one word that Quinn has absolutely no defenses against. Without her permission, the reins on her emotions loosen and she feels a sense of hope flare up. And Rachel can't help but smile and nearly pumps her fist up in the air. She's doing this right. She basks in how Quinn is amazing when she decides to let herself feel _everything_. The blonde just seems to light up and each beautiful expression leaves a larger impact, and a line of stuttering fools. But, Rachel thinks that she's all right with stumbling over herself for the rest of their lives if it meant that Quinn didn't have to hold back.

Santana and Brittany begin to get ready. Rachel's next words are slow and measured, intent on honesty and the sweeping of the pianist off her feet.

"So I just need you to listen and let me finish, because it has been so hard keeping this from you when all I ever want to do is kiss you and never leave your side."

Rachel laughs a little at Quinn's raised eyebrow. Muttering into the microphone, she remembers to be bold.

"This is why I've been a little bit weird lately."

Seated at the drum set, Finn starts everything with impassioned double beat. Other instruments slowly join in, Santana at the piano and Sam, Puck and Artie with acoustic guitars. Mike's nothing but kind and a gentlemen as he holds his arms out for Rachel to take, guiding them to the edge of the stage and helping the singer down. The girls sway lightly waiting for their cues. A last glance is given: a look of gratitude and thanks, before Rachel turns around to face Quinn. The singer stays at the other end of the dance-floor, almost shy during her beginning…

Quinn's eyelids flutter shut at Rachel's voice, and she reminded that there's nothing else like it as it calls up every memory of them together.

I've tried to write

The perfect _song_

But every time I do I feel like

It just comes out _wrong_

There's a resigned nature to how Rachel approaches the first verse as she walks along wistfully touching the edge of the stage. She seems slightly lost as she husks out the last line. It had taken her a long time to accept that there would be no seamless or_ complete_ way to describe her love for Quinn. After all, if you couldn't _explain_ it, provide some sort of tangible evidence or even _talk about it:_ was it real or just a built up figment of your imagination? Rachel couldn't stand the thought or the possibility that their relationship could be anything less. But perhaps during the peak of her insanity, she managed to discover that the bells and tassels didn't matter. In the end, _she was here_. Right now, in _this _moment, she was without her celebrity bravado or elaborate speeches, and she was just Rachel.

She's just a girl, someone wanting so desperately to make a life with Quinn Fabray. And the singer finally realizes the truth in Brittany's assurances; it was _good._ And because it was the pianist sitting there with bated breath, it felt _right_.

With Quinn smiling reassuringly, Rachel figures that she really didn't need anything else. She lets her mind become immersed in hazel eyes as she continues.

I've tried to find

The perfect _words_

I'm still out there looking for

The ones that you _deserve_

There's a short pause. With a hand resting lightly over her uncooperative heart, Quinn feels like she's barely breathing and that would be eternally captivated. For a second, she appears as if she's going to interrupt to tell Rachel _not to worry and not to even think about it, what they have is what she's always wanted. But_ before she can, Rachel raises her hand and shakes her head gently.

She can already hear Quinn's whispers of affection and acceptance but it's something that Rachel refuses to listen to. She refuses to stop, to ever be _complacent_ or _lazy_ in her love for the pianist. She wanted to be better for Quinn. She's promising to _always try for better_ for Quinn.

And I don't know

If I will _ever_ find

The _perfect way_ to tell you why

When every time I try…

Her singing is like a soft confession as Rachel slowly glides across the floor to stand in front of the pianist. Her voice is thick, buckling under the strength of her emotions. And Quinn's utterly charmed. She's probably the only one to notice how Rachel's hands are trembling as the singer taps out the slow beat to the side of her leg. So without much thought or consideration, Quinn stands and takes closes the distance between them. The pianist reaches for Rachel's worried limb and clasps it strongly within her own. The light squeeze of their hands and the current that travels through their bodies is a promise to always be this close.

Rachel lets out a shaky sigh. She should have known that Quinn wouldn't just sit back. It just wasn't in their personalities. And Rachel could admit that she needed this. She needed their skin to touch. She needed to see the look in the pianist's eyes that told Rachel how to be a superhero. So, Rachel swallows and despite the jumble of their combined hands she manages to place a kiss to Quinn's part of the mess.

Watching from the side, Finn is so happy for the girls as he sets the determined pace for the chorus. He wonders about the story behind it. And in the coming minutes, the singer's voice is somehow stronger.

I'm right back at the first date

And the first kiss

That _couldn't_ wait

Cause every moment meant so much

I couldn't let it pass

Quinn and Rachel share a smile. They both revisit the day in their minds: the lake, the markets and the personal stories and histories revealed lying on green grass.

I'm right back where I first stood

When I first knew

_That I would always love you_

Rachel voice drops and breaks at the comment, forcing her to take a breath. That realization had happened at different times for the two girls. For Rachel, it was during the quiet lulls of that first big fight: that terrifying blend of mistaken assumptions, worried emotions and old demons. When somehow even as they were making all the wrong moves, lashing out and trying to hurt each other, they could never see it through. Instead, the girls had collapsed into themselves only to uncover something else. The singer thinks back to that night.

Rachel had come home to find Quinn waiting and asleep against the kitchen table with a mess of failed attempts at a perfect confession. The singer read the each and every single sincere word as her fingers danced over haphazard short blonde strands. So afraid to break the innocence of the sleeping pianist, a tear fell and Rachel Berry figured that she'd always love Quinn _even if it were only for this moment._ It didn't turn out to be. There were other instances afterwards that drew on similar emotions but that was the _first time_ it happened.

And you know

I've never looked back

Quinn leans into Rachel, as the singer presses a slow kiss to her temple. Those same lips then trace a journey along sharp cheekbones, before whispering against Quinn. There's very little space in between them already but Quinn is so desperate to reduce it to nothing as the last part of the chorus hits her. She'll shut her eyes tightly at the plea in Rachel's voice for her to _comprehend_ and _maybe feel it too. _Even during their years apart, they could never quite call their relationship a mistake.

And every time I try to tell you how I feel

I feel like that

_Oh, I feel like that_

If anyone notices the slight hitch in the singer's voice, no comment is ever made about. And, suddenly it's all right. With _that_ truth laid bare, Rachel's nerves wash away and Quinn seems to get it. For the pianist simply moves in to place her hand lightly on the singer's cheek, rubbing her thumb back and forth lightly, before going back to her chair. Santana finds her eyes rolling at the scene. It was really ridiculous how effortlessly Rachel and Quinn seemed to operate around each other. As if, the girls had access to an innate emotion system or _some other ESP shit,_ mixtures of alarms and flares that guided their proximity. There were so many times that Santana didn't understand where Quinn or Rachel would just walk away from each other: to breathe, to read a book or to burrow themselves irrationally into their music. But somehow when it was perhaps time to come together again, their gazes were would be warmer, kinder and if possible more affectionate, and the words _I'm sorry _never needs to be said.

Brittany had explained it once, saying that it was when _love got too much to handle and that the girls were learning how to deal. _Watching the singer now, Santana thinks that Rachel might have graduated a long time ago.

Never letting her gaze leave Quinn's, Rachel finds herself walking backwards eventually leaning against the stage. And as she lifts herself to sit on the edge, she wonders when her legs first turned to jelly. She thinks it was Quinn's lilting laugh but as she takes in every aspect of the pianist, Rachel figures it could have just as easily _been anything else._

It's hard to get an emotion down

When I am still falling

But I _haven't_ hit the ground

By now, there's very little etiquette or efforts at elegance as tears slip readily down Quinn's face. The pianist's delicate shoulder shakes, as her body can't decide between crying and laughing. It's a scary thing when happiness becomes overwhelming, somehow opening portals to every other avenue of feeling. And in the midst of it Quinn is so _many things_. Joyful: because Rachel caused her emotions to do wildly irresponsible things. _Confused_, because there was no _conceivable_ way to love so deeply like this. And _sad_, because by giving Quinn this moment: Rachel has foregone it for her own. The pianist could wax poetry and write descriptions for the years to come, but for all her abilities she doesn't think that she'll ever be able to do it justice.

As Quinn looks up, Rachel can be seen cheery and shaking her head lightly, _as if she knew what the pianist was thinking_. Her voice continues to blanket the open area.

But I hope

_You can understand_

All I'm trying to say

In the best way that I can

Once again the music builds up in beats and volume and Rachel takes a slow inhale before breaking in.

And I don't think

If I will _ever_ find

The perfect way to tell you why

When every time I _try_…

I'm right back at the _first_ date

And the _first_ kiss

That _couldn't_ wait

Cause every moment meant so much

I couldn't let it pass

With serious brown eyes and a powerful sense of warmth, the force to which Rachel throws herself into the lyrics steals the air from the park. The transformation leaves the small crowd a little astonished and a little wide-eyed. But maybe to those that know, it's just the product of an attachment that had always carried the hope that no hurdle was irreversible. For Quinn, it simply leaves feelings of fondness that wouldn't dissipate. And the pianist is so very _transfixed_ as it becomes increasingly difficult to separate music and Rachel Berry in her mind; she will always be devoted to both.

With the importance of the moment rapidly closing in, Rachel's vision begins to swim. Her palms are clammy and it's never been so difficult to hold a note. But, as Quinn's gaze stays with her and as the precious engagement ring leaves an impression in her back pocket, Rachel manages to stand tall. She sings as if she has nothing else left, like this might be her last message, _her most treasured admission_. And, she just needs Quinn to hear it.

I'm right back where I _first_ stood

When I _first_ knew

_That I would always love you_

And you know

I've never looked back

And every time I try to tell you how I feel

I feel like that

The piano floats in as an interlude, giving Rachel a chance to gather herself. Gradually, she looks up and walks painstaking slowly to Quinn, and with each progression of the chords, her voice takes on a gravelly quality as she fights to get the words past her emotions.

_I feel like that…_

The four words are heavy in their meaning and Quinn finds herself nodding. She swears that it's the same for her. Her throat constricts with similar emotions reflected in hazel eyes. Reflexively, her hands will compulsively try to smooth out the non-existent wrinkles in her dress in an attempt to _wait_ for the singer to reach her. A shudder runs through her frame and she's burning under the intensity of Rachel's gaze.

There's another break in the piece that lets Santana fiddle a bit with the melody. However, when it's time to fall back in line, the song adopts a different key and a softer approach. Rachel isn't the one singing as she holds out her hand for Quinn to take. And as the pianist is spun into a twirl, the voices of their friends will faintly register.

_First, Puck and Lauren…_

And I don't know

If I will ever find

The perfect way to tell you why

_Then Artie rolls to the front with his clip on lights and racing gloves. He's handsome in his tux as his voice manages to carry the calmer tone._

Cos every time I try…

Quinn's has her head resting lightly on her Rachel's shoulder as she lets the singer glide their bodies around in a dream-like sequence. They'll gasp as contact happens in random moments: chest-to-chest and hip-to-hip. Briefly, during a forwards and then a backwards step, they are both reminded of the reason why Rachel knows how to lead. Quinn's lips will brush lightly against the sensitive skin of the singer's neck as they both go back to that night: the pianist's birthday and the last of her _I-love-you _hang-ups.

I'm right back at the first date

_Kurt's the one to lead the charge to the peak of the chorus. Almost effortlessly the boy in sparkling bow ties and a decorated suit jacket manages to show the uniqueness of the words, the love-song and the possibility of what happens next. _

And the first kiss

_Blaine adds softly, before holding his hand out to prepare himself for the next part. It's one of the few moments where his voice actually breaks as his support for the two girls on the dance floor threatens his usual composure._

– That _couldn't_ wait

_The sensible black suit to match Kurt's colour, Blaine sings powerfully hoping to finally be able to thank Quinn for senior prom: the king and a king dance… _

_Cause every moment meant so much_

I couldn't let it pass

_Mercedes and Sam manage the next part together. And perhaps the work placed into making a record has humbled Mercedes in ways that the glee club couldn't because she is no less ecstatic even when her voice doesn't overpower._

Underneath the stars, Rachel and Quinn hold tightly to each other as they simply sway to the music. They've lost even the capacity to dance properly as their eyes water and love sends a rush of electricity that leads to buckling knees and tingling limbs. They don't speak but as Quinn seems to lose herself in Rachel's scent and as Rachel's fingers brush affectionately through short blonde hair; maybe they don't have to. It feels like they've managed to carve out their own little bubble in life, guarded closely by friends and neighbors.

Even Sue is without her usual sneer as she watches the scene vigilant for anything that might cause a disruption. Strengthening the beat, Finn nods to Santana.

I'm right back where I first stood

_Santana begins with passion and confidence. Her eyes never stray from her inspiration; the first person to ever mean everything. Playfully, Brittany pushes Santana to the side as she leans into the microphone to interject._

When I first knew

_Together, the girls sing their last line. It's fitting, a near perfect reminder of their vows. _

That I would always love you

And for a moment, Rachel pulls back. She keeps them breathing the same air as she stares into hazel eyes and the girls let the next lines say what they have long since admitted to themselves, when they were ever alone or lonely.

And you know

_Finn begins and Kelsey is the one to finish._

I've never looked back…

The note is held for what seems like minutes and everyone watches with bated breath. Rachel's hand fall on Quinn's cheek and the word _lovingly_ doesn't seem enough to describe their interactions. Both girls are wrecked, _in a good way_ as articulacy disappears between truncated _I love you's _and the knowledge that there'll be no one else after this. And though they're lightheaded and they can't think straight, Rachel and Quinn revel in a need and dependency that surprisingly doesn't make them feel weak.

Soon, after the instruments have died down, it's only the two girls in the middle of the dance-floor. Despite being the _same_ words from the _same_ chorus, there's a sense of finality about it as Rachel begins to sing without the clutter of everything else. Her voice is gentle, pleading and a storyteller of future afternoons spent together.

I'm right back at the first date

And the first kiss

That _couldn't_ wait

Cause every moment _meant so much_

I couldn't let it pass

With that, Rachel falls to her knees in front of Quinn. She can't help but smile at the not-so-subtle widening of the pianist's eyes and combination of shy and nervous gestures that suddenly erupt. And it's not that Quinn is dim or blind to the gesture that surrounds them, but she hasn't pictured herself as the princess for a very long time. It happened a few times when she was very young, with youthful grins and pillowcase wedding veils. But then elementary school came along, and Quinn learnt the hard way that she wasn't a princess, or at the very least she didn't _look like one._ So she told herself to forget about it.

Quinn would love to say that High School was different and maybe _for a second it was._ But then the pregnancy came around and between speaking to the boy that _thought_ he was the father and the one that _really was_, she realized that marriage was the last thing they wanted from her. It wasn't what she wanted from them either.

So when Rachel Berry is on her knees, as _the one that's who's_, Quinn is understandably caught off-guard and unprepared in her responses because it's the first time in a while that she _finally feels like a princess. _Rachel has always had that uncanny ability. The singer was able to remind Quinn that chase and effort of someone could still be worth it.

And every time I try to tell you how I feel

Rachel reaches a velvet jewelry box from her back pocket. With a soft smile and trembling hands, the ring glitters under the fairy lights. Hopeful brown eyes catch hazel and the last line breathlessly leaves her lips.

_I feel like that_

The song is finished and there's a pause. Rachel's mouth opens to say something or even at least to ask the all-important question _but nothing comes out_. She's so overtaken by her emotions and after performing the song, she feels like there are no more words. There was nothing else that she could possibly tell Quinn, that the blonde didn't already know or couldn't glean herself. Rachel's soul resided in every verse, bridge and interlude. And Quinn chuckles quietly because Rachel is so much more eloquent than what she gives herself credit for. The pianist considers herself a lost cause because the answer has probably been yes since senior year, when she first confessed that she was so _deep in this_. So she doesn't need time to think about it, she simply nods and reaches out to lift the ring from its box. She'll kiss Rachel, joining her in the wordless emotion, as she slips the ring on her finger. The contact is a little salty but tenderness isn't in a shortage.

_I__n that instant_, Rachel promises to always be the inspiration for Quinn's love-songs and Quinn promises take up all of Rachel's spare time in between tours, interviews and the grand circus of it all. The blonde pledges to be the singer's constant.

…_Because in the end, like Rachel had said: they're always and this thing they have has always been forever._

/

"You know Q, you can just stay here for the night. I mean Berry's bound to be a little off her rocker during the wedding prep."

Santana's voice rings out in the newly brought brownstone. It's not her old bachelor's high-rise, but something distinctly in between the urgency of New York City lights and the possibility of suburbia. It was a joint venture with Brittany after the wedding and the first steps towards _adulthood_, something so desperately mocked and avoided in their younger years. The rooms had a distinctly homely feel with walls that were half painted with Brittany's many fascinations and a kitchen that housed Santana's most beloved possession, an overpriced café coffee-maker machine. Everything else was still in boxes, in the process of being unpacked but Quinn can't help but marvel about how it already felt like a home. She keeps expecting to see a raucous little child come barreling towards her from the next room.

"San..."

Brittany's quiet interruption barely ruffles Santana and brings Quinn back from her daydream. The pianist remembers how she had spent the day holed up with her friends, playing Monopoly and reveling old misdemeanors. And, it really wasn't a just game because as Santana or Quinn would inevitably accumulate their paper wealth and plastic hotels, Brittany's pouts and saddened expressions would always result in loans and bailouts that were against the rules, keeping her in play. The two alpha girls would continually try to explain to the dancer how she shouldn't just give either of them the properties that they wanted or pay for their jailing fees despite the fact that _it was what friends should totally do_.

As the sky seemed to get darker outside, it leads Quinn to ponder. She figured that her presence in her friend's home wasn't from a need to escape Rachel, because god; _Quinn thinks that she'll never want or feel like that_. However, there's barely been time to appreciate anything as they've been thrown into the whirlwind of informing the world and planning the date. There were so many small decisions; _almost too many_ as towards the end of the day Quinn could no longer tell the difference between lilies and gardenias. She simply holds Rachel when the singer seems frayed and seconds away from a cute but long explanation. She just bundles an exhausted Rachel to their bed, kissing the singer's forehead affectionately, marveling how even when asleep Rachel has no trouble entangling their limbs together.

So when, Rachel's fathers make the trip up to New York to help with the itinerary and spend time with their little girl, it seems like the perfect time to take a rest and unwind. And Quinn's missed her friends so much.

Santana simply shrugs at Brittany, continuing on without a care and gesturing to crazy motions in the air.

"What? I don't mean anything by it but you know Rachel she can be a little – "

"San!"

The second disruption is louder and Brittany doesn't let her wife finish the sentence. She tries for her best stern expression but from it barely has an impact as the innocent laughter in her bright blue eyes remains. So instead, Brittany just shakes her head disappointedly in an attempt to get her message across. She tries not to melt and give in to a smile when Santana reaches out for her hand and kisses the corner of her mouth.

Santana just seems to roll her eyes amusedly at the dancer's rigid stance, trying to explain herself. There's a certain level of domesticity to their interaction that makes the whole world a little envious because it was as if during the high and lows of their fluctuating teenage relationship they had already spent a lifetime together.

"Relax Bitts. I still love Rachel to bits but I'm just sayin…"

"Santana! Stop."

The last admonishment is accompanied by the insistent tugging of the Latina's arm, finally causing Santana to pause. Brittany's temporary display of strength and energy causes Santana to undercompensate and fall into the dancer _a little bit_. And somehow, the scowl on her face is made less threatening by the adoration in her smile as she attempts to playfully glare at the taller blonde girl. During it all, Brittany simply takes in all in stride with a wide grin as she nods to Quinn. She tilts her head and chuckles as the way that the pianist seems completely at peace with their oddities and moments of coupledom. And that's when the dancer's eyes are nothing but thoughtful. She tries to convey some sort of thanks to their friend because from the pianist's upbringing there was nothing to suggest that she _should have been so blasé, accepting and even supporting._ No, instead a long time ago Quinn had made a choice to put their friendship, the notion of Brittany and Santana out of the grasp of her family. Russell beliefs never had a chance to touch them.

Brittany thinks that perhaps _that_ was the reason why the three of them had survived the pettiness and the changes that came with growing up but never apart. They were the people to always be in each other's corner and to see past the thin veneers. So, Brittany decides to do so one more time tonight as she speaks to Santana and in the process tells Quinn about the need that has been subconsciously itching at the pianist's consciousness for the last hour or so causing her to randomly glance at her watch and the door.

"Don't you see it? Quinn misses Rachy already. Let her go home. Let her go to Rachel."

It's a comical moment as Santana's eyes widen and she seems to rip herself back, turning her head to look at Quinn.

"_Seriously_?"

The one word slips out of her mouth in a whisper, expecting some sort of refutation or waving away of the statement because, let's face it, since the proposal Rachel and Quinn haven't been apart for more than minutes at a time. Santana had thought a timeout was in order _but apparently not_, as the denial never comes. Instead, Quinn turns her head away glancing out the far window. An enthusiastic blush runs up her neck settling on her cheeks as she runs and embarrassed and flustered hand through her short hair. There's a sweet and relaxed look in her eyes that suggests that her only thought was of a short brunette girl at home with highlighters, multi-colored memos and every bridal magazine available. She finds herself missing the excitement and hyperactivity that was so intrinsically Rachel. The image causes Santana to sigh in disbelief as she walks over to wrap her friend in her arms. The surprisingly gesture causes a strangled sound to come out of bewildered Quinn. She barely catches the incredulous whisper into her ear.

"And I thought she had you whipped in high school…_Jesus_ Q…"

Quinn's responding laughter fills the room. A distance away, Brittany appears confused but she doesn't try and interrupt. _Every day_ it was Brittany and Santana. _Often,_ it was Quinn, Brittany and Santana, but _sometimes_ it is just Quinn and Santana. The girls held a sort of unrivaled friendship and the dancer simply watches.

Santana seems to touch her own wedding ring reverently and look towards Brittany for a long second. Then there's a pivotal moment, as everything about the Latina seems more accessible, her shoulder lose their usual readiness for confrontation, warmth takes over her features and her lips quirk ever so slightly.

Only Quinn hears the emotional, child-like and hopeful question.

"This is real, right? This is who we are, now?"

When Santana looks up, she's met with Quinn's affirmation and tentative touch of her shoulders. A look is exchanged as they both try to absorb that they didn't need to fight _so hard or be so unmovable anymore_. Santana had Brittany and Quinn had Rachel. It was as simple as all that.

/

They say that the day of the wedding is the happiest of any girl's life. That statement is _wrong_. Rachel has ten. She has ten dates that are seared into her memory, shaping her life for the better. But here's the thing, Quinn has had a hand in every single one.

Their wedding day about the fourth, a few positions after the random ice-cream rendezvous of their youth and two years before the family night celebrating Quinn's seventh Grammy win: _best instrumental arrangement accompanying vocalists_.

The actual ceremony was held next to a lake where they had their first date, holding so much significance to both of them.

Quinn: because this was her childhood sanctuary and where she first learned to _really_ trust Rachel. She had always been a little astonished about how _easy_ it was to bring the singer here, as if her many trust issues just seemed to wither in front of warm brown eyes and an motivated attitude. And, Rachel: because this was the location that taught her so much about the blonde, and even if it was unintentional at the time, it was one of the first indicators that they might _last_ past the usual high school romance. Rachel remembers being prepared for a no doubt still-fantastic day in town only to be whisked to markets by the water. _Only to bring home so many vintage Streisand records that Quinn had bought her and an eclectic set of Polaroid shots chronicling fun of the day and transient sweet glances that would be considered too early to be present during a first date. _After all, love that causes people to grow old together shouldn't happen that quickly, except for the fact that _it did…_

If you ask anybody about the most important part of a wedding, they might describe the kiss that would seal the union or the fateful words: _I do_. However, those that know Rachel Berry and Quinn Fabray would disagree.

For the parents, the glee club and the townspeople that felt as if they might have suffered along with the girls during the course of their relationship, they'll close their eyes and say that the scene that would stay in their memories was _the vows_. Even the token members of the press seem strangely silent as pens slip out of their fingers and their expensive cameras hang forgotten on a strap around their necks. And when their editors call to complain about the complete lack of juicy material for the magazine covers on the next day, the journalists and the paparazzi in a rare moment of acknowledgment and deference to the two girls will let their thumbs land on the red rectangle on their touchscreen phones. They'll forget their jobs as the static voices of their employers are clipped off mid word, and simply enjoy the culmination of a love that the world was so intrigued about.

The vows last only for five minutes. But it is perhaps a chance to still _surprise_ love by revealing that little part of yourself that you can't help but keep hidden from everyone else; that you're actually a _secret optimist_ or a _hopeless romantic_. It's the moment unique to every union, as heartfelt words easily carry in-crowd jokes and promises for extraordinary.

Looking into affectionate brown eyes, Quinn finds the confidence to say to the lost lovers and the reckless students still out there that _not all change is bad, that, in fact, it can be so good…_

"_Rachel, I wish…_

…_I wish that I had better words than this or something that will feel like it's enough, but I love you. I've never dared to be so invested in anything in my life, because hey, people always leave and things eventually fall apart right?"_

The sad statement is said with a light tone. Rachel's gaze is sympathetic as she remembers how strong Quinn's defenses were at the beginning. She recalls the sarcasm that told stories of a neglected childhood and two-faced schoolmates. During the pause, the pianist squeezes Rachel's hands gently.

"_Rachel, I want to thank you for setting me straight."_

A small smile is shared and the crowd chuckles in the background.

"_Thank you for showing me that it's all right to break, and that with the right person, falling isn't really so terrifying, because… I could never shake you."_

Taking a deep breath, Quinn whispers earnestly. 

"_I could never shake us."_

There is a moment where the girls can't help themselves. Suspended in the warmth in of each other's gazes and the emotions tied into the words, their heads start to move. Their hearts scream for them to be closer and to make that contact: letting their lips linger and tongues to dance. But no, it's not time yet. They'll realize that eventually when they can feel each other's breathing. And with soft graze to Rachel's jawline, Quinn tries to shake off the haze. She speaks wistfully as the memories filter into her mind.

"_The first time I lent you my lettermen, I remember wondering who on earth would be so careless as to stay out in the cold without adequate protection. I hoped that it would keep you warm."_

With a pause, Quinn shakes her head and a sense of clarity returns to light her eyes.

"_Three months later, I was looking around in my closet and then I realized that you still had it. And I remember telling myself that I would get it back from you the next time I saw you. I hoped that it wouldn't have any 'Berry' germs on it."_

The pianist is careful in her story telling because the truth is _freeing_. They're finally in a place where Santana and Brittany don't need to bridge the gaps any longer. Sure, Quinn and Rachel had to learn, often through the hardest of means, but the girls were wiser now.

Quinn is so ready to open up and share _all_ her thoughts: the ones that had always felt so sacred, scary or shameful. She's going to let Rachel understand; acknowledging that in many ways the singer had probably already figured them out _in the silence_. After all, they hadn't been conventional. At the beginning, their _real _interactions seemed only to exist in the dark, in the middle fights and during long spans of quiet. And now, all Quinn can think is how far they've come…

"_After your birthday was the first time that I couldn't chalk my actions up to being a friend or helping Finn. When we danced that night, I couldn't help but think for a second about us. I remember feeling so angry and out of control. I just wanted to go over to your house and take it back, any part of me that you held: the Polaroids of you that Brittany took, the recording studio pass and, my letterman. I needed to feel like you weren't the only thing that could make me feel happy…_

_Then, our first date was something different. I made so many plans. It took me days to draw up an intricate night of classic romance and vegan friendly food choices, but none of it mattered when I saw you come down that staircase. You wore a __soft pink t-shirt and a plaid short skirt." _

Quinn laughs fondly.

"_Rachel, you wore my letterman on top. And all I could think about was how perfect you were in it: how the slightly bigger size made you look even tinier and yet it wasn't overshadowing in any way. I couldn't help but think that it suited you better."_

The sincerity in the compliment causes Rachel's heart to skip, flutter and jump. Her cheeks redden and a sense of excitement erupts. It always does when Quinn does things like this, when the blonde decides to be charming but above all _honest_. She can't help but look away for a moment.

"_Now fast forward the years, we're standing here in front of our family and friends. My letterman is still missing from my closet. And, I swear my only thought is that I hope that you never give it back..."_

Rachel looks up at the statement. Quinn grins gently. The sun catches her glittering eyes and creates a glow around strands of blonde hair. It suddenly becomes harder for Rachel to convince her mind that there's no such thing as borrowed angels as Quinn's next words fall around them.

"_I hope that you keep us both around for the long run because we're both yours." _

There might be a sound in the audience somewhere that sounds suspiciously like a combination between Judy's controlled sniffles and Hiram's much louder delighted cries. For the most part, Leroy just shakes his head embarrassedly as he offers Judy a handkerchief and rubs comforting circles on his husband's back. Rachel and Quinn shake their heads lightly. Their smiles are unshakeable as they marveled that they were so much a _family_ already.

So with that, Quinn finishes her vows.

"_Rachel, I promise to never be scared of us, and who or what we can still become together. _

_I promise to never keep my distance from you. _

_And I promise to never say goodbye, because we're going to stay..."_

There is a silence as the words sink in. Eventually, when the girl's catch their breaths and composures, it'll be Rachel's turn. The singer finds faith to hold onto as she fights with her usual self to peel back the over-confident layers. She tries to show the world how distance and uncertainty was not a tragedy or the absence of caring, but perhaps simply a chance to _realize_. That maybe, the plans of their youth were never wrong, only revised for a better time, the lesion that she had to learn.

"_Quinn. This might come out jumbled and wrong. Words have never been as kind to me as they are with you. But please, bear with me._

_We're completely different people you know…"_

Rachel lets the statement linger, looking up shyly from her lashes. The pianist's gaze is nothing but warm as she tilts her head endearingly. Rachel reaches up to tuck an errant blonde strand behind Quinn's ear before continuing.

"_I get jealous and I get irrational. I hate meat products and the thought of being anything remotely close to stagnant. Sometimes, I get so turned around that I can't tell left from right. _

_But… you're calm."_

The short statement is imploring, carrying so many other unnamed emotions. There's something desperate in Rachel's eyes as she strives to get the point across, that they were never wrong for each other. _Not even when the odds were stacked against them and not even when they couldn't cross the high school divide. _And Quinn finds that she understands. Without even thinking her heart already has an answering thump-thump-thump and her mouth becomes dry. Rachel brushes away the wayward tear.

Her voice is quieter than it normally is, but no less powerful, weighted by feelings deeper than a simple drive to succeed and _make music._ She lets each description slip affectionately from her lips.

"_And you'd rather attack everything with logic with so many plan B's and C's. You hate melted ice cream at the bottom of the cup and would prefer the quiet to the big city lights. You can't tolerate spicy foods but need pulp in your orange juice. I know all these little things about you and even with a lifetime, I think that I'll only ever scratch the surface. But, Quinn_?

Rachel watches as hazel eyes seem to widen just a little bit more in the awareness that even her flaws might seem endearing to the singer, a trait that she can't live without. Quinn takes a shaky breath as she meets Rachel's waiting gaze. The singer offers a child-like grin and almost automatically Quinn finds her own lips quirking in response. Rachel quiet assurance manages to linger.

"_I can't wait to try anyway_."

The pianist finds her cheeks reddening. And though, Judy has nothing left to be ashamed of, managing to become the mother she couldn't be in Russell's presence; Quinn thinks that with Rachel Berry is when she's really felt so _unconditional_.

"_For all the reasons that we clash or shouldn't last like we do, none of it really matters. I've stopped trying to dissect this, because…_

_I'm meticulously put together combinations. And, you're the girl that's pretty in her favourite ratty t-shirt that you won't seem to get rid of."_

Rachel pauses. One of her hands finds its way to the back of Quinn's neck with fingers moving in reassuring circles. There's a sense of mischief in her eyes, as if she has a secret and Quinn finds herself leaning in, wanting so badly to know.

"_You're the girl who knows me." _

During the second pause, members of New Directions catch each other's glances knowingly. Even Mr Schue, who's is now far better versed with teenagers and their dysfunctions, recalls that discussion so many years ago. Where, everyone had a chance to be surprised by the two girls standing in front as Rachel's statement was proven. The concept that two people who weren't quite even friends let alone lovers could already comprehend the intricacies of the other.

"_Not the 'me' for the cameras." _

Rachel offers in a whisper and a quiet sense of defiance. The journalists present can't help but feel a little badly, yet they're so glad for the singer. That she hasn't totally lost herself to the discussions of the late night television hosts and social media. That, perhaps Rachel Berry still has a piece of herself that is shared only with someone deserving, _in love_ and so close to her heart. And as they listen to Rachel's continued speech, they can't help but think of their own wives, girlfriends and significant others.

"_And not the 'me' from high school, but the version that is constantly growing and maturing. Quinn, you have my hand through it all; we've always pulled each other through."_

Almost straightaway, thoughts and past events flash in and out of their minds. It was instants that gave them the confidence to push and scratch at each other's boundaries, when they started questioning everything: actions, morals and mistakes. And maybe somehow with Quinn's indifferent sarcasm and Rachel's brash attempts at fixing the situation, they figured out how to progress _together_.

"_In the ever-changing world, you know me, how to deal and how to love. You're a revelation…my revelation."_

This time it's Quinn who has to look away. She gotten far better with emotions but maybe, just maybe she's always going to be surprised by the depth of Rachel's feelings for her. She's never felt so high, so _warm_, _revered_ and _protected. _And Rachel is simply patient, as she gives Quinn space, time and the chance to filter through the flood of emotions. She waits for hazel eyes to return to hers and a faint squeeze of her hands, just to know that Quinn is all right, that _the blonde isn't overwhelmed yet. _They revel in the good of this moment.

When Rachel begins again, it's with an earnestness that Quinn has so rarely seen directed anywhere else. She can't help but wait, listen and _believe_.

"_And Quinn, I know that you've heard all the compliments before, from boys, girls and everyone that is fortunate enough to meet you. But… I need you to understand what you mean to me._

_At the start, you were everything I wanted to be: beautiful, confident and popular. And through all our trials … every mistake, fight and fall, I want you to know that I've never seen you as anything less. I've just found more parts of your life to care about, more qualities to adore and more reasons to feel like the luckiest girl in the world just because care so much about me…"_

Rachel voice grows thicker, as the happiness and tears threaten her composure. She can't help the hiccup, hoarseness and crack in her voice as her confession comes out.

"_When I look back on my life, the one thing, the one accomplishment that I will be so happy and proud of is that I found a way to be your person, your lover and your strange fairytale. _

_So I promise to always have you in mind."_

Quinn finds herself unable to do anything but stare and try to commit every minute thing to memory. She's laughing delicately because this isn't complicated. This isn't their ending. This is simply an offer to be each other's shelter, lover and whatever else will ever be needed. Rachel is simply offering her everything and Quinn is so easily saying yes. But romance doesn't end here, and from the way the girls look at each other it probably won't ever end at all as the singer's final words fill the open area. 

"_I vow to take your breath away _

_I vow to make you knees weak. _

_I vow to mess you up in only the best of ways._

_I'll do all these things because…"_

Holding the pianist's gaze, Rachel presses a soft kiss to Quinn's ring finger.

"…_I love you more than I thought I could. And every time I even get close to thinking that 'love can't be more than this,' I'm so wrong."_

The admission comes out fast, and with a slight tinge of disbelief. Honestly, Rachel had thought that one-day they'd reach a level, where it would be like _oh_, they've both _arrived_ and all that would be left would be to enjoy. There wouldn't be this incessant fluttering in their chest that can sometimes be a little too overeager and hands that tremble a little too much. But she's slowly figuring it all out…

"_I learn to care about that you that little bit more. You're flawless."_

If possible, Quinn thinks that she can actually feel touch transmitted in a gaze. She thinks that she can feel Rachel's arms dance across her jaw and playing notes along her arms, exciting every nerve ending.

"…_And, this relationship is it for me."_

Quinn eyes soften. Rachel can't help but surge up closing the distance between then. And with the flutter of her lips on Quinn's the singer murmurs tenderly with tears streaming down her cheeks.

"_I swear you've had my forever since we were 18."_

The applause, the camera shutters and the voice of the officiator barely make it to their consciousness as their puppet strings are cut. They fall into each other: lips to lips, hands on waists and around necks, _somehow managing _keeping each other stable.

/

It's a winter's afternoon when Rachel is nervously pacing the living room of their New York brownstone. She's bundled up in so many layers of woolen jumpers and thermal tights and singlet. Almost in a second of peace from the topic plaguing her mind, Rachel would look forlornly at the fireplace, kicking herself for never learning how to operate it. She recalls the laughter in Quinn's eyes at the streak of charcoal smeared across the singer's cheek as she fondly offered to teach Rachel. The brunette had pouted, annoyed at her multiple failures already that she had stood up in an endearing huff and foot stomp, muttering that she didn't need to learn. She would always have Quinn.

Rachel feels the skin on her lips crack as the memory draws a foolish grin to her face. The sting brings Rachel's mind back to the present predicament. Quinn had been gone for two months to work with a band local to Chicago on songs for their new record and Rachel couldn't join her. The singer had commitments of her own to benefits and concerts. Still, Quinn had seemed so reluctant, nearly missing her third flight out in an attempt to spend more time with her wife. It had taken half a year for the pianist to use that title without breaking out in an adorably embarrassed stutter in front of the press. Needless to say, Santana was not charmed, having to book and purchase another ticket each time. Rachel and Quinn had giggled down the phone trying to explain that the _first_ time, it was because their car was being serviced and that there were no taxis. Santana had rolled her eyes stating that their car was in their garage and that it was _New York_; there was no such thing as _a lack of taxis or car service_. Two hours later and their explanation for the second flight was a lengthy text message detailing missing music sheets and a missing suitcase. This time, Santana had scoffed and couldn't help but be exasperated by the situation. The Latina was so sure that with Rachel's OCD like tendencies, that she would have had Quinn's gear ready and packed 3 days early. But in the end, Santana couldn't help but let the girls off with a light warning and a third flight. She would shake her head amusedly along with Brittany as they marveled at the Quinn and Rachel's attachment. They found that they could understand after this was the other girls' first real distance since they've come together again.

Now, two months later, Rachel is impatient and nervous as she waits for her wife to walk through the door. Quinn had been so adamant, knowing that Rachel hadn't been feeling that well lately that the singer should rest instead of meeting her at the airport. Tick. Tick. Tick. The second hand manages to distract Rachel, for at least a little while. That is, until Rachel looks out the window and sees a couple walking down the street. The father has a little girl in his arms and the mother holds the hand of a young boy. They're laughing as they carry their groceries back to their home. And there it is, Rachel returns to thinking about _it._

You know, _kids_.

The singer sighs. She's thirty now and whilst she didn't subscribe to deadlines and social expectations she did still care _a little_, all right, maybe a lot. Rachel had always wanted a family: to help bring, protect and care for another human being as they made their way into the world. She wanted to change nappies, go to first recitals and every single one after that and be only _slightly embarrassing_ in her vocal support during high school graduations. And sure, her therapist might credit her thoughts to the fact that she was an adoption child herself but in all actuality it was more than that. When she saw Quinn interact with Beth…

There was a glow about the pianist. There was softness and a light in hazel eyes as Quinn carefully guided Beth and then, when she thought Rachel wasn't looking would chance a glance to the singer and bite her lip thoughtfully. In those moments, Rachel would feel a tingling as she found herself being whisked away into daydreams. She imagined a child, hopefully the best combination of both of them running into their bedroom demanding to spend the night because_ there were monsters under his or her bed._

Rachel finds herself being lost in these sorts of thoughts more and more recently. Everything had been going so well. Quinn had finally gotten used to the attention afforded to her due to her relationship with Rachel and her own songwriting fame. The girls had managed to handle the press and their timetables as it felt like they were finally accepted. Every talk show didn't feel like a battle to convince or justify themselves anymore. And whilst they had been happy to deal with it all, during such a reprieve, the girl's couldn't deny that they had started to get tired, _fatigued_. So Rachel doesn't want to break the peace. She didn't want to cause worry. She didn't want to ask Quinn something that could hurt her.

Because really, they hadn't talked about it, Rachel had no idea where Quinn's head was at when it came to the possibility of another addition to their family, a second child after Beth. She knew that Quinn was still healing from that. She knew that it was rare, but sometimes regret _for how it all happened _would jump into the pianist's mind and she would lose herself in painful memories. So, Rachel in her mental argument with herself doesn't really notice the front door opening. She doesn't really notice _Quinn_, until the blonde is standing right in front of her with a supportive grasp of her waist and a worried look in her eye.

For a second, all Rachel registers is that she's no longer pacing. That warmth from Quinn's touch is _somehow_ making it through all her layers, causing her stomach muscles to stitch and her heart to beat faster. She barely hears Quinn's kind tone.

"Rachel, are you ok?"

There's a brief moment as the actual meaning of the question sinks in and Rachel begins to feel panic because, in her time waiting, she still hadn't come up with a proper way to broach the topic. So she tries to get _more distance and perspective. _Turning her body, she tries to undo Quinn's protective embrace and step away. But, Quinn's grip simply tightens. The pianist places a concerned hand to Rachel's cheeks and holds her gaze. Rachel visibly swallows as the emotion that's directed at her disarms her.

"Hey, _hey_ Rachel, you can talk to me you know that. So come on, what is it?"

Maybe it's the way Quinn speaks as if she will always be around. Maybe it's the devotion in hazel eyes. And maybe, it's Rachel's own personal desires but the singer finds the words slipping from her lips before she even has a chance to stop them.

"I want kids."

Surprise floods Quinn's expression and for a second her arms loosen. Rachel takes the chance to break away and walk to the window. She looks out, hoping to see that family still playing in the playground of the park. She can't help but think how perfect their brownstone was, close to parks and major schools. And she can't help the pang of sadness when she realizes that the family isn't there anymore, probably rushing home for hot chocolate and marshmallow treats. With no more excuses, she finally turns back around to look at Quinn.

The pianist hadn't moved from her spot yet. The shock had dissipated and all that was left was a curious tilt of her head that Rachel couldn't quite read. Missing Quinn's presence clouding her senses already, Rachel just tries to wrap her arms around her body in an effort to feel the same. She can't help the need, hope and trepidation in her tone as the gates keeping her thoughts under control falters and she tries to explain. Rachel will hold Quinn's gaze all the way through, believing that when words would fail her, her emotions definitely wouldn't.

"I mean that I want a family with you Quinn. I want to have a child that _a little bit you_ and _a little bit me_. "

Quinn opens her mouth to speak but Rachel simply shakes her head, continuing on. Her voice is thick and her eyelids flutter. And, Quinn fights not to rush forward and interrupt. Quinn forces every part of her body not to reach forward and stop the tears that would be coming. Instead, she just lets Rachel finish. She tries to absorb what Rachel needed her to hear, and ask the question again, to herself. Quinn wanted to be able to actually respond with answer not just a confused platitude. The care in Rachel's speech keeps her calm in the meantime.

"And…I understand that if after Beth, and High school you're not sure or if it's no longer something you even want to think about. I won't pressure you. And if you say no, it'll be ok as well…"

Quinn can't help but flinch at the sadness that invades Rachel's whole presentation: how the singer's shoulder would drop and her voice would become almost meek. It hurts the blonde to watch and once again, she's so grateful for the concessions that the singer would always be ready to make for her. Thinking about a future where they have a child that's _theirs_, Quinn's mind is still a little hazy, but she swears that she _loves Rachel so much_. She swears that if you give her a little bit more time, she can come up with an answer, something that wouldn't disappoint. There were things that needed to be discussed.

"Rach…"

There were probably a lot of times that Quinn wished that she was more emotionally adept. But as it stood, she was still trying to sift through the random views and deliberations that were flooding through her mind. _Would it be a_ _girl or boy? Should they aim for private or public schooling? How would their family work under the pressures of the spotlight? Could they be away from Rachel when the singer had to tour, or would they as such a loving unit be bundled up in the large bus and trailer to every major city and stadium?_

Quinn was trying come up with answers and plans. Faintly, she register's Rachel speaking to her again.

"I mean I love Beth and we'll be ok you know. Just, you and me."

_Just you and me_; the statement resounds in Quinn's mind. She can't control a lot of things. She probably hasn't come up her usual balanced list of costs and benefits but she doesn't really care at all when she looks up and sees Rachel's worried expression. The agreement comes out more readily than she thought it would.

"_Ok_."

"Ok? Ok to what? Though I don't suppose it matt –"

"Ok Rachel, let's have kids."

Quinn interrupts the singer quietly, _resolutely_. And it's only then that Quinn realizes with crystal clarity that the thoughts delaying her answer had nothing to do with _yes or no_ but simply how.

_How would they manage? Because, as long as Rachel was the one asking, the answer was always going yes. _

With that, Quinn finally shrugs off her duffel bag and makes her way slowly to her wife. She takes Rachel cold hands in hers and rubs. Quinn presses her lips against Rachel's finger in an attempt to generate some sense of warmth. Rachel lips are slightly open in disbelief, a little bit conflicted in a fear to give into hope and happiness. And Quinn is just ready to stop that feeling; she wants to give Rachel everything, but more than that_ she wants everything with Rachel. _

So she speaks honestly and passionately.

"Rachel let's have a little diva that going to sing the roof off."

Quinn leans closer and reaches to pick a few pieces of lint out of the singer's rich dark tresses. Their breaths and gazes are held all the while.

"And lets have a little writer that just wants to paint the world with happily ever afters."

Rachel lets out a relieved breath as happiness makes wet marks down her cheeks. Quinn grins in response and she can't help but borrow Rachel's words in her next statement.

"Somebody who is _a little bit you_ and _a little bit me_…"

Quinn barely has time to react, as Rachel throws herself into the pianist's arms. She burrows her face in Quinn's neck and the taller girl actually lifts and twirls her around. Their laughter fills the large living room as afternoon sunlight streams through patches of overcast sky and large bay windows. It's only then that Rachel pulls back and asks gently.

"Are you sure?"

This time, there's no expectation for anything in her tone, only a strong sense of attention and concern. Rachel is so happy with the turn of events but she's also still _so unwilling_ to put Quinn in a position that she didn't want to be in. The pianist seems to hesitate for a moment, trying to piece together her thoughts and the right way to explain. She's knows that Rachel would continue to give her chances like this, to fold and walk away without penalty but Quinn has come to figure out that she might never want to.

"I wasn't for the longest time. And then, you brought Beth and I back together. I watched you chase her around the house and we taught her one of _our songs_… "

Quinn's wistful as her voice drifts off. She presses her forehead against Rachel's and inhales deeply: cookies and cinnamon. And just like that _yes_, she's _sure_. And _yes_, she _home_. Her murmur makes it quietly to Rachel's ear.

"_To be honest, I haven't been able to think of anything else."_

/

The girls find out that Rachel is pregnant on a night where Rachel is due to perform at the Madison Square Garden. It's 10 minutes before and there's not time to even pause and catch your breath. With sound technicians and make-up artists screaming orders and rushing about the girls think that it's just another day. Rachel begins her vocal exercises and Quinn goes off to help Rick with cables.

In the midst of everything, she'll feel the vibration of her phone as the name of their doctor flash on screen. Quinn's heart would race and she'll find herself frozen as her mind blocks her away from the world in an excited mess. It's Rick who takes the device from her hand and answers the call. His eyebrows rise higher than Quinn has ever seen as he listens to the speaker on the other side. There's continued conversation for a while but the old man simply places the phone on the table and walks over the blonde girl who has become so much like a daughter to him. He cups her face with both hands to get her attention, to get her back to reality.

"Quinn, it _worked. _The procedure worked! The doctor just got the test back today: Rachel and you are pregnant. Congratulations girl!"

The smile that appears on her face is beautiful. Her eyes light up and for someone who's usually so composed, she begins to bounce and shake in delight. Laughter fills her voice as she manages to say.

"I've got to go tell Rachel."

That night their news is shared with 20,000 people present at the concert hall. At the end, Santana simply looks to the two girls and with a confident smirk mutters that _she'll be an epic aunt_. Brittany rushes back just in time, with an armful of her teddies and carnival won toys from her personal collection, _offering to totally share with mini-Rach or mini-Q_.

Rachel and Quinn can't help but smile as they bring their friends in for a hug. The four girls celebrate into the early morning with bad movies, ice cream and alcohol free drinks. They toast and agree that this is not how they pictured their lives when they were kids but that the amazing thing was that _dreams change_.

/

Finding out the gender of the fetus is like pulling teeth. Santana is in the middle of fielding a million of Rachel's errands when she makes a pit stop the doctor's clinic for the singer's pregnancy supplements. The doctor, by now used to passing information along to Rachel's many helpers gives Santana an envelope. She tells the Latina that the gender of the baby was on the letter if the girls wanted to know.

That night Santana presents the information to her friends and there's just a long pause. Quinn waves it away, saying she's rather be surprised because the gender didn't matter and they would love the child anyway. And if Santana's life was simpler or if her friends weren't so hardheaded, then that would be the end of that. But, once again Rachel and Quinn are _so different_ and the brunette definitely wants to know. Rachel provides countless reasons and even makes an on-the-spot PowerPoint to that effect. She cites the need to be prepared and to start thinking of names as top reasons. Sitting through the spiel, Santana finds her eyes rolling countless times and her hands itching to call Brittany.

In the end, after a few hours, Rachel turns to Quinn. She gazes at the blonde with _that look_ in her eye and Santana knows that it is inevitable. She can't help but groan as she watches Quinn redden at a certain whisper and melt under a certain kiss. Santana sighs when she hands a beaming victorious Rachel the envelope.

_Their first child is a girl: Haley Jane Fabray._

/

There are so many firsts of a child's life for parents to be excited over. Haley's first steps happen earlier than most. The girls are relaxing in their home just cuddling and watching a movie when using the scaffolding of the playpen; Haley attempts to pull herself up. Quinn quietly points the scene out to Rachel and they watch with hushed whispers. Like any parent they worry needlessly with each small stumble or fall. They fight their natural drive to bundle up the infant and shield her away from the world.

Haley fails for the first dozen times but perhaps she's got Rachel's tenacity and Quinn's quiet determination because with her young features twisted in a cute look of effort she manages on the fifteenth try. She's standing wobbly on her feet and looking up at her mothers, breaking out in an adorable uncontainable giggle. The young infant waves exuberantly; somehow gathering from the reactions from her parents that _wow she must have done a good thing._ And because she simply misses Rachel's soothing lullaby and Quinn's safe embrace she attempts to put one foot in front of the other in their direction.

Step.

Fall.

Pull herself up, and start again.

Eventually Haley is walking and she collapses on her last step into Quinn's waiting arms and points to enthusiastically to Rachel's camera. Later than night, when Brittany finds out she is ecstatic and drags a tired Santana to Quinn and Rachel's home. The dancer demands playfully and enthuses Haley into another display of brilliance. Santana simply leans against the door watching with an amused expression. She'll mutter to Quinn _congratulations because, even her kid is an overachiever. _But, the Latina would never tell anyone that picture of her goddaughter's first step will be the desktop of her phone for a very long time and she's _so proud_.

/

Family life is different, with so many other joys and responsibilities. Quinn continues to pen and craft songs and Rachel continues to sing.

During touring season, the pianist would bring their two children with them. By then they have another, a _son_. His name is Jonathon F. Berry because _yeah they decided to alternate with the last names_. It's a charmed life that works out surprisingly well. During the day, the girls get to show their kids every major part of the world from the great ball of cheese to the Grand Canyon. And later at night, Quinn and their family watch Rachel sing in a private viewing box. Sometimes they even join the singer on stage. With her grade three math-book in hand, Haley is old enough to appreciate music, the enormity of their lives and her mother's talents. She is vigilant like Quinn taught her, protective of her younger brother who is still constantly wide-eyed. She's loving and indulging as Jonathon points excitedly at their superhero mother onstage.

It's then that Haley figures that her brother would eventually realize that in fact, _both_ their parents were superheroes and champions. There's _mommy_, of who there are many posters of. Everyone knows her and loves to hear her sing. But what they don't know and a fact that is reserved for nightly tuck-ins, is that mommy is at her best when she's kissing them goodnight and singing their beddy-bye songs. And then there's _mom, _who is quieter but _always_ there. _Mom_ packs their lunches, teaches them piano and talks them through their nightmares and small accidents. She keeps saying that she wasn't always like this, but Mom's the best at putting feelings into words.

Beth is their cool big sister. She comes to babysit and play games with them when mom and mommy go out and do _grown up things_. Beth teaches Haley math, writing and colouring. She sneaks them candy and sugar after hours and rocks out with them to the Elmo song. In the future, Haley reckons Beth will teach Jonathon how to play soccer as well. Mommy says Beth is her sister, but mom's daughter. It's all so confusing and makes Haley's brain hurt and _go all swirly but _they're all so proud of the older girl who's has sporting and academic scholarships, ready to finish high school early in the fall.

Then, there's auntie Santana and Brittany. Santana is awesome, she has the funniest jokes and the unique ability to make mommy all flustered and stomping her foot _like kids do_. Santana is mom's best friend and often they hang back and talk about a lot of things and secretly hug. Haley doesn't understand why they don't let other join them or see. But one day Jonathon will tell her that it's because _mom and auntie Santana are too cool for girly stuff, duh! _Brittany is their best friend. She makes the funniest faces and can move like she's floating or walking on water. She and mommy like baking in their aprons. They laugh more readily and enjoy making a mess.

This is their family. This is the picture that Haley and Jonathon draws with multi-colored crayons and paints during their first day of kindergarten. Since then it's been laminated and tacked on the fridge wall.

/

It takes several years, but it does eventually happen. _There needs to be an end to the travelling and the touring_. Rachel supposes that she's been wondering about the 'when' for a while now. So once it does happen, it's like a weight has been lifted off her chest.

Haley walks into the living room with a brave yet serious expression. She has a binder in hand with highlighted pieces, post-its and pre-written speeches. But perhaps unlike an adolescent Rachel she doesn't depend on it. Instead it is simply there. In fact Haley's so similar to Quinn in her eyes, the way they almost seem to pierce through you. And the way she approaches things is careful, thoughtful and strangely calm. Rachel nods her head in acknowledgement and calls her wife into the room. It takes a few minutes but Quinn races Jonathon down the stairs. In the last moment, the pianist lets the boy overtake her and they're all rewarded by his victory dance courtesy of one Brittany S Pierce. Rachel and Haley look to each with disbelief before they burst into laughter, clutching their stomachs and breaking the tension.

Eventually everything calms down and the family sits around the dinner table. With heavy concentration, Haley takes a breath before starting.

"Mom, Mommy and Jonathon, there's something I want to talk to you about."

Quinn and Rachel nod warmly, an invitation for their daughter to go on. Haley seems relieved by the gesture as the apprehension starts to drain out of her shoulders.

"I'm starting high school next year and you have always been so open with us. You keep telling us everything is a choice and I believe you."

There's a lull as the teenager becomes hesitant. Her brows furrow and suddenly it's like she doesn't have the carefully practiced words anymore.

"Haley, what is it?"

Quinn asks kindly. Haley looks up to hazel eyes. She tries to draw on the strength that has always been offered. Quinn nods reassuringly and makes a motion for the young girl to continue. It's enough. It _works, _asconfidence slowly returns. Haley manages to remember _her point._ She feels like it might be ok to speak aloud…

"I want us to stay here in New York until I graduate high school. I want to be in one place you know? Like, to hang out with my friends more instead of switching between homeschooling on the tour and a _real school_ during mom's down time."

For a while, there's just quiet and surprise. Quinn seems suspended in thought and Jonathon tries to look at anywhere but the dinner table, wondering about the soccer game that would be starting soon in the park. He doesn't quite share Haley's needs yet, but perhaps that's just the age difference. But, because he loves his big sister, because _she's always had his back_; he refuses to abandon her. So, he takes a deep breath and stays in place. He tries to be _mature_ and to actually be intelligent and _here_ for the discussion. There's less than a second before Rachel's emotion does an automatic jump and the mother in her is thrust into worry.

"Haley! If you weren't happy you should have told us earlier. You know we wouldn't have put you through that. I'm _so_ sorry. I wi–"

The singer is so terrified of the mere thought that her passion may have had a chance to hurt her family. She hates the idea that music could have made her daughter feel trapped. But Quinn is quick to interlace their hands and fingers with a reassuring squeeze, and Haley is also quick to correct the mistaken assumption. The young girl doesn't have any regrets, and it's only because she loves her family to much to hide anything, that the topic is even being brought up now. It'll take most of her college years before she'll realize why her parents had such an emphasis on being open. With an Ivy League education, she'll somehow manage to trick Santana into speaking about Russell and Judy Fabray. She'll manage to convince Beth into talking about Rachel and Shelby. And then, she'll understand and Haley will be so glad that she's always tried for _honest_.

"Mom! I didn't mean it like that. I promise. I've been happy, _beyond that really_. I mean I've gotten to do and see things that most other kids only dream of. You haven't done anything wrong. It's just that – "

And once again, the young teenager seems to be searching for the right words again. With her brows furrowed in thought, she seems to get increasing irritated with herself. Still, when she's at a loss, she simply looks up. She shares a glance with her parents that say nothing but tenderness, hope and a strange sort of content.

Feeling the atmosphere shift again, Quinn finishes for the young girl gently. She thinks she understands and that _everything will be all right._

"It's just that you'd like some stability for a while. You'd like to be given the chance for normal."

Haley looks to her mother in surprise and with her points so laid out in front of everyone, she begins to feel shy. Looking at the faces of her brother and her parents, she wonders if she being selfish and begins to doubt. Haley has always had her parent's approval and it isn't something she'll ever want to live without. And maybe, that's why in her future years; she'll never be any good at being rebellious. Instead, she'll ask permission to go to the obviously illegal keg parties and actually agree when the answer is no. She'll believe that it would be best. But, then there are times that her parents loosen the reigns and take a risk on their daughter. Sometimes they say _yes_ and trust that Haley will know when to say _no._ She'll have all the experiences that she's meant to have.

"Yeah I guess... Is that bad?"

Rachel, who's been silent so far, seems to break out of her stupor at the uncertainty and shame in her daughter's tone. Her eyes widen and she reaches over the coffee table to hold Haley's hands in a soothing manner. The singer's voice is comforting and sincere when she answers.

"No honey, it's not bad at all."

Rachel tries to inject everything into her gaze; specifically that Haley _should never feel bad for this. _There's just no reason to_._ For a pregnant moment, all that will happen is shared looks and silent comforting gestures. Nobody knows what to say next or if anything needs to be said at all. Everyone is kind of submerged in his or her theories and visions about the uncertain future and _whether this might change them? If so, would it be for better or for worse_?

Still, they have their strengths and their weakness and despite inherited characteristics and learned behaviour, each person sitting around the table had a distinct personality. Sometimes it only takes _one. _

One person: with a clear head.

One person: who can tie everyone's thoughts together.

One person: who is just that little bit more fearless in the current situation.

People often are too quick to judge based on age and years spent in some sort of learning institutions. They shouldn't though because so much of life is not in books or even real-life experiences. There are rare times when the ability to see the _whole _scene is _innate._ Jonathon is only eight years old but he gets along with Auntie Brittany. He likes talking to the dancer for hours because most time she's the _only adult that ever makes any sense_. And maybe, they shared the same 'unicorn abilities' too.

"Mom? Mommy?"

"Yes Jon?"

Quinn asks curiously and Rachel smiles receptively. It's always an event when the young boy volunteers to speak with such seriousness about him.

Being a person of few words, Jonathon seemed to only interject when he felt as if he could actually offer something. Otherwise, he would prefer to do everything with actions. Often he'll walk up and randomly just put in his arms around Rachel when the singer looked stressed for whatever media-filled reason that day. Other times, he'd jump on the piano stool to play that first ever complicated song that Quinn taught him, until a grin and lilting laughter would come from the pianist. And, last but not least, he'd happily walk into his sister's room and help her dig through her stuff for that missing earring or page of homework.

So, when he opens his mouth to speak, the family can't help but attend to every sentence, word and syllable. He had an understanding that was far beyond his years.

"Listen, Haley loves you. _I _love you. We both love our lives so far. I think that she still wants you to sing for people. I know I do."

He looks to his sister who nods in agreement. Then the boy focuses his statement to his parents again. His tone is unassuming, thoughtful and _kind_.

"But, just for a little while, can you sing for people _here_?"

_Yes, of course. _Those are the words that are on the tip of Rachel's tongue but looking at the happy faces of her family, it seemed, as they already knew. So, instead the singer simply opens her arms wide, and naturally everyone moves closer for a group embrace. With love and a tight grasp on each other, they hear her emotion-laden words whispered into their hair.

"_I love you guys so much."_

And just like that, their worlds don't end.

The family makes a last tour of sorts. They start from New York and go all around, following old trails and still managing to find new sites. The media is ablaze running amok with the notion that this might be the last chance for a lot of people to see Rachel Berry in concert.

Despite this, to Rachel, it never feels like it might be the culmination to anything let alone her career. Every performance is still exhilarating but she swears nothing has really changed, she doesn't magically sing better, the crowd doesn't shrink in number and the lights are still as bright as it has ever been. Still, _on the very last one_, in Delaware of all places, Rachel's eyes drop to the front row. There's a young mother and there's something in her age and the way she wears a previous concert tee, or clutches an old record that tells Rachel that she might have been a fan since the very beginning. There are tears in her eyes as she mouths the words along to one of Rachel's first songs. And it's in _that_ moment that it hits her: that it starts to feel like it _might really be the end_.

Rachel expects to feel sad, to maybe mourn the loss of this part of her career and _maybe she does for a second_. But then, she'd look over to her right and behind the curtain of the stage; Haley is looking at her with pride, gratitude and love. The teenage girl is enthusiastically singing along and even dancing during the interludes. Jonathon rolls his eyes good-naturedly to his sister. He's much more like Rachel, an open book and oblivious to most social rulings. He doesn't care about looking uncool as he holds his the PSP up and lights up the screen, moving his arm in a slow wave to the beat of the song. Quinn stands behind them with a camcorder in hand and mouths three words: _I love you._

And, just like that, Rachel doesn't mind. In fact, she's finally ready to say goodbye. So after the last slow song, she'll lean forward to address the crowd.

"Hello everybody!"

The crowd cheers, shouting the greeting back.

"So, as you know this is my last concert but I haven't yet told you really about the why. You've been a part of my life for so long that part of me kind of assumed that you guys already knew. But here it is, it's time for my family and I to settle down. It's time for a slower pace."

Rachel glances over, holding Haley's gaze. They both smile softly to each other and the teenager makes a heart shape with her fingers. Rachel returns the gesture before turning back to the audience.

"I love performing and knowing that my voice and music is affecting all of you has been…a gift, _indescribable really."_

Rachel pauses, closing her eyes. She wants to remember this moment: the creak of the speaker, the brilliance of the lighting and background noise of the crew. When she looks up again there is happiness in her eyes and a sense of brightness to her expression that moves the audience. They swear they can feel her emotions as she speaks earnestly into the microphones because Rachel Berry has never kept her fans at a distance.

"So I wanted to say thank you."

This time, her family joins Rachel. They all join hands, looking out to the people who have probably been a part of their lives for as long as they could remember. Rachel looks to each of them lovingly before speaking one last time.

"_We_ wanted to say thank you. _This is just the next chapter of our lives."_

/

Decades later, there might be another hopeful couple, trying to make relationship stand under the public eye. They'll be unconventional to say the least and with the odds stacked so highly against them, it'll feel like a constant uphill climb to conquer their fears and insecurities. Because, he's so much older and far more reckless; and she's still new to the business and the darling of a small town. With experiences of a failed previous marriage and time spent recovering from addiction, nobody trusts him to love _someone like her_. They don't think him as even _capable._ But, she's not like others. She thinks that his scars are beautiful and tell the story of a warrior, somebody who fought for life and simply lost a few times. She loves that his concept of romance is a guitar pick from his first-ever performance made into a charming necklace. She doesn't mind that their date dinners have to be without wine or other alcohol because he has always been able to make her feel giddy.

So, it's distracting when everyone disagrees. It is more than unpleasant when their feelings are cannon fodder for breakfast shows gossip.

"So I hear that there's been a huge backlash against Austin and Julia's foray into coupledom. I mean on one side we've got their _own_ production executives and publicists trying to deny the whole thing and on the other we have the parents crying danger and foul. It's just insane isn't it Sally?"

An impeccably put together lady would ask to her hosting partner. There's a sense of mischief in her smile as she draws the topic out, eager to discuss and make a sensational splash. Sally is much younger, a favourite intern recently promoted from being just another red carpet microphone. And perhaps she is still naïve enough to miss the glint in the older woman's eyes, as she answers without a trace of malice.

"Well yes Janet, I heard that they can barely get out of their houses without being mobbed by the paparazzi and the fans are going crazy over it. Julia's gotten quite a bit of hate mail and Austin lost his gig opening the CMA awards. "

Janet nods in response at the new information. But still, it's not enough is it? It's not what their viewer's really want to know and it's not what the television broadcasters pay them to talk about. The veteran presenter will take a slow breath, unnoticeable to most. She'll make a note to hate and punish herself for this later because personally, she has no desire to make life any harder for the _new couple_. She's done this carnival ride so many times and despite her continued actions, she'll still desperately prays that the people that are being talked about are strong enough to take it in stride. Janet hopes because she knows that she wouldn't be able to.

"Well Sally, since you have the inside Hollywood scoop on what's going on, the biggest question is do you think their relationship is real or just a mismanaged PR stunt. I mean are they going to make it?"

In the recording area, the studio audience actually leans forward in their seats, thirsty for an assessment of the current situation. Sally smiles genuinely towards them before beginning. She hopes that some of her views will translate correctly because she is a fan and supporter. She thinks that Austin and Julia could make it if they just remember _to not let go_. Like anyone, Sally wants to believe in those old bedtime stories about princes and princesses.

"I honestly can't tell you Janet. Only time will tell. But as somebody who's had the pleasure of interviewing the both of them, I'd say they seem pretty sincere and in love so who knows?

I mean nobody thought that Rachel Berry and Quinn Fabray's relationship was going to last, but now it's almost 50 years down the track and after the kids and the grandkids; they're still going strong and very much in love. They've become huge role models and I don't know a beacon of light for people like Austin and Julia in a similar situation."

There's a pause as everyone stops to think about the truth in the comment. Those that are the right age recall the _kind of revolution_ that Rachel and Quinn had started just because they had decided to be _loud_, to be _brave_ and that the chance to care about each other was _worth fighting for_.

They're figures from an older generation but sometimes their songs _still come on the radio_. Sometimes, segments of old interviews are _played on a continuous loop_ on bored cable networks. And sometimes, a statement that they said in passing or opinion that they made known is _quoted and repeated_ and just like that, _the world remembers them again. _

The world is reminded of their impact.

"So maybe Rachel and Quinn can coach the two young stars about how to deal with their newfound situation then?"

Janet asks thoughtfully. Noticing the time, Sally considers the question quickly, before replying brightly.

"_Maybe. Maybe"_

/

Somewhere in Lima, a television set has its volume turned down low. The screen displays the last scenes of the morning show, but is otherwise ignored.

There are two elderly women dancing a slow dance in the living room. It's not as smooth as it was during their youth because of bad hips and problem ankles but it's obvious that they still know the steps. With a light grasp on her walking stick, Quinn is _still_ tall enough to send the singer into a careful compensated twirl and Rachel _still_ automatically presses her ear to the pianist's chest in search of that strong reassuring heartbeat.

In the background a record plays. It is the studio recording to a song that never ceased to speak to their hearts, minds and _happily-ever-after. _They both can't help but softly sing along.

I'm right back at the _first_ date

And the _first_ kiss

That _couldn't_ wait

Cause _every_ _moment meant so much_

I couldn't let it pass

I'm right back where I _first_ stood

When I _first_ knew

That I would _always_ love you

And you know

_I've never looked back_

And every time I try to tell you how I feel

I feel like that

_I feel like that…_

The End.

/

Ta da! Note:

The next chapter isn't more of the story but the playlist for the fic that I have been promising to release. So if you want, have a look and compile the music you liked. In my spare time for now, I will probably be sifting and grammar correcting some of the earlier chapters.

Feel free to pm me anytime with questions, ideas for a next fic or just to chat. Come save me from my study load!

See you on the flipside.


	28. Chapter 28 Fic Playlist

Last Chapter of actual story is 'Chapter 27 – Endings'

As promised, here is a list of all the songs associated or featured in this story. Hopefully if I did my job right, when you listen to it, you might recall some parts of the story!

1. Pretending – Glee Cast

2. Beg You to Fall - Kate Voegele

3. Signed, Sealed, Delivered I'm Yours - Human Nature

4. Queen of New Orleans - Jon Bon Jovi

5. Secrets - One Republic

6. I am a Good Girl (Burlesque) - Christina Arguilera

7. Obvious - Faber Drive

8. When you say nothing at all - Ronan Keating

9. I'm not in love yet - Huey Lewis

10. Somewhere only we know - Keane

11. UGLY - Bon Jovi

12. Human - Jon McLaughlin

13. Sea breeze - Tyrone Wells

14. You and I tonight - Faber Drive

15. Hidden away - Josh Groban

16. Halfway - Parachute

17. I should go - Levi Kraus

18. Say you're mine - Kate Voegele

19. To make you feel my love - Josh Kelley

20. Make a Mistake with Me - Brad Paisley

21. Good Life - One Republic

22. All we'd ever find - Tim McGraw

23. Red Rover (very very loosely) - Rosie Thomas

24. Forever - Ben Harper

25. Gravity happens - Kate Voegele

26. Bullet - Mat Kearney

27. I Can't Break it to My Heart - Delta Goodrem

28. Sandcastles - Kate Voegele

29. You could be happy - Snow Patrol

30. I wanted you more - Lady Antebellum

31. Dancing away with my heart - Lady Antebellum

32. Tell her something- David Hodges

33. All this time - One Republic

34. I Feel Like That – Jason Walker

Cheers,

Slowread


End file.
